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DANIEL BOONE AND THE 
WILDERNESS ROAD 



jj^^^ 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO 
ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 

TORONTO 




Daniel Boone 



From painting by Chester Harding, owned by Colonel Reuben T, Durrett, of 
Louisville, Kentucky 



DANIEL BOONE 

AND THE 

WILDERNESS ROAD 



BY 



H. ADDINGTON BRUCE 

AUTHOR OF **THE ROMANCE OF AMERICAN 
EXPANSION,*' ETC. 



ILLUSTRATED 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
1910 

jiU rights reserved 






Copyright, 1910, 
By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published May, 1910. 



Norivood Press 

J. S. Gushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 

Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 



©CLA265216 



TO THE MEMORY OF 
MY FRIENDS 

CHARLES FLOYD PERSONS 

AND 

AGNES GEORGE PERSONS 



PREFACE 

In his old age, though in no spirit of boastfulness, 
Daniel Boone declared that "the history of the west- 
ern country has been my history." Undoubtedly, 
of all the men who took part in the winning of the 
early West, none played so conspicuous a role as 
Boone, or a role of such extensive usefulness. His 
services to his country began in the bitter struggle 
of the French and Indian War, that colossal conflict 
which definitely eliminated France as a factor in 
New World colonization. It was he, more than 
any other man, who made England's colonists ac- 
quainted with the beauty and fertility of the vast 
and well-nigh unoccupied region between the Alle- 
ghanies and the Mississippi. To his bold pioneering 
the United States owes one of its greatest highways 
of empire — the famous Wilderness Road, along 
which so many thousands of home-seekers passed 
in the first peopling of the West. Throughout the 
stormy years of the Revolution, he was preeminent 
in the defence of the infant settlements which he had 



viii Preface 

done so much to plant in the country beyond the 
mountains. And, finally, after the Revolution, when 
the American people had begun to take possession 
of the new territory gained and held for them by him 
and his fellow-pioneers, Boone once more entered 
upon his self-imposed mission of pointing the way 
for his countrymen to the land of the setting sun ; 
and, having crossed the Mississippi, died as he had 
lived — in the very forefront of civilization. 

The attempt, therefore, to write such a book as 
the present — which is intended to serve the double 
purpose of a biography of Daniel Boone and a study 
of the first phase of the territorial growth of the 
United States — finds ample justification in the facts 
of Boone's career. On the biographical side the 
effort has been made not only to give as complete 
and accurate an account of Boone's life as is now 
possible, but also to estimate and make clear his 
specific contributions to the progress of the nation ; 
while on the historical side my chief aim has been 
to describe the process of expansion in its military, 
political, economic, and social aspects. This has 
necessitated a somewhat detailed examination of the 
characteristics of the people who won the West, and 
the measures they took — notably in the organiza- 
tion of the Watauga, Transylvania, and Cumberland 



Preface 



IX 



settlements — to establish the institutions of civilized 
society in their isolated wilderness communities. But 
I have endeavored to accomplish this portion of my 
task without causing the reader to lose sight of the 
great central figure of the narrative. In any event, 
I believe that only by gaining an understanding of 
the life and spirit and ideals of the sturdy folk of the 
frontier, is it possible to appreciate Boone's place in 
history and the bearing of the early westward move- 
ment on the subsequent development of the United 
States. 

I am, of course, under obligations to previous 
writers, particularly to Boone's leading biographers. 
Dr. Reuben Gold Thwaites and Dr. John M. Peck ; 
to the distinguished author of " The Winning of 
the West"; to the early historians of Kentucky 
and Tennessee; to the contributors to the excellent 
Filson Club publications; and to Professor A. B. 
Hulbert, author of the " Historic Highways of 
America " series of monographs. I am further in- 
debted to Dr. Thwaites for helpful advice, as also 
to Professors Edward Channing and Albert Bushnell 
Hart, of Harvard University, and Colonels Reuben 
T. Durrett and Bennett H. Young, of Louisville, 
Kentucky. I would also thank Captain Edward 
M. Drane, of Frankfort, Kentucky, for assistance 



X Preface 

in illustrating my book, and Mr. T. Gilbert White, 
of New York, for permission to reproduce his two 
beautiful paintings now in the Kentucky State Capi- 
tol. Much valuable material to which I could not 
otherwise have had access — especially in the way of 
rare copies of early Western newspapers — has been 
placed at my disposal by the authorities of Harvard 
University Library, for whose sympathetic coopera- 
tion I desire to express sincere gratitude. And, as 
in all my undertakings, I owe much to the wise 
counsel and aid of my wife. 

H. ADDINGTON BRUCE. 
Cambridge, Mass., 
April 4, 1 910. 



CONTENTS 



Preface 

CHAPTER 
I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

Index 



The Youth of Daniel Boone , 

Boone's First Campaign 

Dark Days on the Border . 

Boone's Explorations in Kentucky 

The People who followed Boone 

Westward Ho ! . 

The Building of the Wilderness Road 

Boone as a Law-maker 

The Passing of Transylvania 

War-time in Kentucky 

The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 

Boone among the Indians 

The Last Years of the War 

Pioneering in Watauga 

From Watauga to the Cumberland 

Annals of the Wilderness Road . 

Kentucky after the Revolution . 

Boone's Last Years 



PAGE 

vii 



17 
36 

49 

68 
84 

lOI 

1 12 
133 

153 

173 
199 
221 
247 
264 
281 
301 
325 

343 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Daniel Boone ..... 




Frontispiece ■ 

PAGE 


Boone's First Glimpse of Kentucky 




• 54^ 


James Robertson .... 






78'^ 


The Sycamore Shoals Treaty 






. 98 = 


Relics of Daniel Boone 






. 126 


Simon Kenton ..... 






. 162 


George Rogers Clark .... 






. 186 


Memorial Wall to Heroines of Bryan's Station 






. 238 


John Sevier ..... 






256 


Cumberland Gap and the Wilderness Road 






292 


Site of Boonesborough .... 






304 


Boone's Cabin in Missouri . 






336 


Map of the Early West 






341 



xm 



Daniel Boone and the 
Wilderness Road 

CHAPTER I 

THE YOUTH OF DANIEL BOONE 

DANIEL BOONE, as every schoolboy knows, 
is the typical American backwoodsman. 
He was never so much at home as when 
treading the pathless wilderness, rifle in hand, in 
quest of game or of the pioneer's mortal foe, the 
wily Indian. Always Boone kept in the forefront 
of civilization, pointing the way for its advance but 
never allowing it quite to overtake him. Not city 
streets, but the mountain, the forest, and the prairie 
were his habitat. And he came honestly by his un- 
quenchable passion for the wild and open life of 
the backwoods and the border. 

He was born in a log-cabin, remote from the 
refinements and allurements of civilization; and he 
had for parents plain, simple country folk, accus- 
tomed to hardships and at all times preferring the 
freedom of the frontier to the crowded, hurried. 



2 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

worried existence of the town. His mother was the 
daughter of an unassuming Welsh Quaker, John 
Morgan. His father, who bore the odd name of 
Squire, was an Englishman by birth, a native of the 
obscure Devonshire village of Bradninch. Although 
bred a Quaker, Squire Boone seems to have had in 
his veins a touch of the longing for excitement and 
adventure that sent Hawkins and Drake and those 
other old-time sea-dogs of Devon on their epoch- 
making voyages. At all events, when scarcely in 
his teens, he became profoundly interested in re- 
ports of the Quaker paradise said to have been 
established by William Penn on the other side of 
the Atlantic. 

It was unfortunately the case that in England, 
and even in New England, Quakers were subject to 
bitter and bloody persecution, and many of them 
led most wretched lives. In Penn's dominions, on 
the contrary, according to the story which in time 
found its way to the farthest corners of the old 
country, not only were Quaker refugees absolutely 
free from molestation by religious bigots, but they 
were on the friendliest of terms with the native 
Indians, were making the wilderness to blossom 
like the rose, and were in every way living amid the 
most delightful surroundings. 

His curiosity roused to a high pitch, young Boone 
one fine day took ship for Philadelphia, in company 



The Youth of Daniel Boone 3 

with a brother, George, and a sister, Sarah. Their 
immediate object was to verify the rumors they had 
heard, and to determine for themselves the fitness 
of Pennsylvania as a place of residence for the en- 
tire family, their father having signified his willing- 
ness to emigrate if the outlook seemed promising. 

To us of to-day this sailing of Squire Boone — 
whose American-born son was to serve as guide to 
the American people in the first stage of the wonder- 
ful westward march that has carried them to the 
shore of the Pacific and beyond — cannot but seem 
a most noteworthy occurrence. Yet history is silent 
concerning it. The ship that carried the youthful 
Boones was not a Mayflower or a Susan Con- 
stant. It was simply one of many others employed 
in the emigrant trade, and even its name and the 
port of its departure have long since passed into 
oblivion. Whether the crossing was smooth or 
rough, whether the Boones enjoyed it or regretted 
ever having set foot aboard, it is impossible to say. 
The probability is that they were herded together 
in unpleasant quarters with a small army of fellow- 
emigrants, — for people were already flocking to 
Pennsylvania, — and that they were heartily glad 
when they saw the low, thin, blue line indicating 
land ahead. At an uncertain date in the years 1712, 
1 713, or 1 714 their ship swung in between the capes 
of the Delaware, proceeded up the river, on whose 



4 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

banks were still visible the ruins of Sweden's ill- 
fated experiment in colonization three-quarters of 
a century before, and eventually landed the ardent, 
hopeful Boones in Philadelphia. 

It needed only a few months of travel and explora- 
tion to convince them that rumor had not unduly 
exaggerated the beauties and riches and advantages 
of Pennsylvania. In high good humor brother 
George hurried back to bring out their father and 
mother and the younger children; sister Sarah gave 
a favorable ear to the advances of a matrimoni- 
ally inclined German, and, as Mrs. Jacob Stover, 
became the mistress of a rude but perpetually neat 
cabin home in what is to-day Berks County; while 
Squire Boone, for his part, roamed with all the rest- 
lessness of youth through the country about Phila- 
delphia, eventually choosing for his home the frontier 
hamlet of North Wales, and settHng down to the hard 
life of a Pennsylvania backwoodsman. 

It was in North Wales that he met Sarah Morgan, 
and it was on the 23d of July, 1720, that they 
were married in a Quaker meeting-house and in 
accordance with the simple Quaker ceremony. A 
family tradition, quoted by Dr. Reuben Gold 
Thwaites, Daniel Boone's latest and best biographer, 
pictures Squire Boone as "a man of rather small 
stature, fair complexion, red hair, and gray eyes''; 
while his wife was "a woman something over the 



The Youth of Daniel Boone 5 

common size, strong and active, with black hair and 
eyes. 

There was no honeymoon — merely the rough 
and boisterous yet sincere rejoicings after the back- 
woods fashion, and then the young couple laid aside 
their wedding garments, and plunged once more 
into the business of life. Very poor they were, yet 
very happy, and their happiness was soon increased 
— as likewise their cares and responsibilities — by 
the advent of children, four of whom were born to 
them during the dozen years they remained in the 
North Wales country. 

At the end of that time Squire Boone had saved 
enough money to buy a farm of his own, and he 
decided to remove to Oley Township — in the 
modern Berks County — where now lived not only 
his sister Sarah but his parents and several younger 
brothers and sisters. The Boones, indeed, were 
sufficiently numerous in that part of Berks to give 
the name of Exeter to one of its townships, in honor 
of the ancient Devonshire city that stood only a few 
miles from their native village. 

In Oley Township, then, in the beautiful valley 
of the Schuylkill, and for what would seem to us 
a ridiculously small sum. Squire Boone became the 
owner of a tract of two hundred and fifty acres. 
Most of it was in woodland, — that is to say, the 
hardest sort of work would be necessary to make 



6 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

it fit for cultivation, — but Boone's arms were strong 
and his heart courageous, and with right good-will 
he began to make a clearing. Erelong the smoke 
from another cabin was rising above the trees of 
Oley Township, a token to all who saw it that one 
more pioneer family had joined in the labor of con- 
quering that portion of the Pennsylvania wilderness. 

In this cabin, Nov. 2, 1734, Daniel Boone made 
his initial appearance on the stage of life. Had he 
been a first-born his arrival might have been ac- 
counted an event, and something made of it. But 
being only a sixth child, — another had been born 
since the departure from North Wales, — he was 
regarded from so distinctly matter-of-fact a point 
of view that nothing whatever is known with respect 
to his infancy. It may safely be taken for granted, 
though, that he was left pretty much to shift for 
himself as soon as he was able to go about on hands 
and knees. This was a way pioneer mothers had, 
and that it was not a bad way is clearly evidenced 
by the sturdiness of their deer-stalking, Indian- 
fighting sons. 

It may also be reasonably conjectured that the 
little Daniel's infantile amusements included play- 
ing with his father's powder-horn, tugging at his 
father's rifle as it lay carelessly thrown on a settee 
after the return from a hunt, or staring fixedly and 
eagerly at it when it reposed in its accustomed place 



The Youth of Daniel Boone 7 

against the wall. If, as is said, the child is father 
of the man, these and similar toys must have held 
Daniel Boone's attention at an unusually early age. 

Certainly, he was still a very small boy when he 
began to give indications of the remarkable fondness 
for hunting which was characteristic of him even 
in extreme old age. It is difficult to realize that his 
birthplace, only a few miles south of the progressive 
city of Reading, and in the heart of one of Penn- 
sylvania's most populous counties, boasting, as it 
does, close upon one hundred and seventy-five thou- 
sand inhabitants, was in the days of Boone's boyhood 
a grim, sparsely settled frontier region, abounding 
in game of every description. Against the smaller 
sort of creatures — squirrels and chipmunks and 
birds — he soon declared war, tracking them in 
imitation of a veteran huntsman, and slaying them 
with a knob-rooted sapling, which he learned to hurl 
with remarkable dexterity. 

This, too, when he was not more than ten years 
old. A little later — to be precise, at the age of 
twelve — his father surprised and delighted him with 
the gift of a hght rifle. Gone forever was the knob- 
rooted sapling, thrown aside in the exuberance of 
his joy at this wonderful present. He was a man 
now, a man full grown, he told himself, for did he 
not carry the weapon of a man .? And he patted its 
stock fondly, and peered eagerly through the under- 



8 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

growth in search of some fierce beast of prey to 
overcome. 

In point of sheer fact, for all his feelings of bigness 
and self-importance, he was just a freckled, bare- 
foot, ragged little urchin, who frequently gave his 
parents a great deal of trouble by neglecting his duties 
as herd-boy in order to play Nimrod in the surround- 
ing forest. He, they knew, could take care of him- 
self, but the cattle required attention, and it some- 
times was no easy matter to ascertain where they 
had strayed. But it was impossible long to be 
angry with him, so intensely earnest was he in his 
hunting expeditions; and, recognizing this, his 
parents, instead of scolding him, turned his fondness 
for hunting to good account by commissioning him 
to provide the wild meat for the family table. They 
could have found no occupation more congenial to 
him, and none better calculated to train him for 
his life-work. He became an unerring shot, an ex- 
pert woodsman, acquainted with the ways of furred 
and feathered Hfe, and schooHng himself admirably 
in many another text-book of nature. 

Of schooling as most boys know it, however, he 
had next to none. The majority of his biographers 
assert that he went for a time to an "old field" 
school, where he acquired the rudiments of "book 
learning" in the form of easy lessons in the spelling- 
book and Psalter, together with some slight instruc- 



The Youth of Daniel Boone 9 

tion in writing and arithmetic. One author even 
goes so far as to give imaginary details of his school 
life, including an obviously fanciful account of a 
singular and reprehensible trick played by Boone 
and some fellow-pupils on their schoolmaster, who 
is described as a worthless drunkard. Of course 
Virtue, as typified in these fascinating juvenile 
vagabonds, triumphed over Vice, the learned but 
dissolute pedagogue. 

V The truth seems to be that, at all events in the role 
of scholar, Boone never saw the inside of a school- 
room; but was indebted for such education as he 
received to his mother and a young sister-in-law, the 
wife of his much older brother Samuel. Both of 
these devoted instructors, although they must have 
found in the restless, nature-loving, active boy a 
most difficult pupil, took pains enough, as we shall 
see, to enable him in after-life to write interesting, 
if badly spelled letters; and to earn his living as 
a surveyor. 

He also received some manual training of a useful 
sort. His great-grandfather on the paternal side 
had been a blacksmith, his grandfather — who died 
in Berks County when Daniel was in his tenth year — 
a weaver; and both of these occupations were fol- 
lowed by his father as soon as the farm was sufficiently 
cleared to permit of his devoting some part of his 
attention to interests other than agricultural. He 



10 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

kept half a dozen looms at work making "home- 
spun'* for his neighbors and for the Philadelphia 
market, and the cheery blaze of his forge was a wel- 
come sight to tired travellers after a day's journey 
through the forest. As between the two — the loom 
and the forge — Daniel infinitely preferred the latter; 
but, we are told, only because it enabled him to 
repair broken rifles and traps. Everything was sub- 
ordinated to his zeal for the life out doors, and each 
succeeding year he awaited with growing impatience 
the approach of winter as the happy season when 
he would be free to give full rein to his passion for 
the chase. 

For, from the time he was thirteen he made it his 
custom to spend every winter hunting. All through 
Berks County, and far into the forests and mountains 
beyond, he wandered, exploring the country so 
thoroughly that for miles roundabout there was 
scarcely a foot of territory unknown to him. The 
Blue Mountain and South Mountain ranges became 
as famiUar to him as the undulating hills of his 
father's Oley farm. Many a day he climbed Penn's 
Mount, near the site of Reading, and from its summit 
beheld the snow-laden clouds gather over the far- 
extending valleys. Sometimes, laden with furs, 
he journeyed down the Schuylkill to Philadelphia, 
then a most picturesque little city, with its Tudor 
cottages, its orchards, its gardens, and its bustling 



The Youth of Daniel Boone ii 

water-front, where ships were constantly coming 
and going, bringing in all manner of strange people 
from foreign parts, and taking out the rich produce 
of the New World. 

Thus his life passed until he reached his sixteenth 
year — an irresponsible, roaming, care-free life, 
but in its own way stimulating to ambition and not 
devoid of achievement. At sixteen there was no 
better woodsman in all eastern Pennsylvania than 
Daniel Boone. Thanks to the wise policy of William 
Penn and his Quaker successors in the governing of 
Pennsylvania, it had not been necessary for him, 
while thus serving his apprenticeship in the forest, 
to match his wits against those of the Indian, as 
would have been the case had his boyhood been 
spent in almost any other part of the frontier. He 
saw plenty of Indians, but they were always friendly. 
Nevertheless, as though with an instinctive fore- 
warning of what the future had in store for him, he 
gave himself to a most careful study of their traits 
and habits. 

This — like the pursuit of the deer, the bear, and 
the wolf — meant hours of patient trailing and of 
hawk-like watching from the concealment afforded 
by thicket, log, and stump. It was a fascinating 
game, — this mimic hunt of unsuspecting warriors, — 
and it aided immeasurably both in the success that 
Boone afterwards won as an Indian fighter, and in 



12 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

the formation of his character. It developed in him 
remarkable powers of observation, it increased his 
self-conjfidence and self-reliance, and it accustomed 
him to the exercise of great self-control. 

Still more, it awoke a desire to penetrate to those 
distant wilds whence the Indians emerged, as by 
magic, whenever they came to visit the Pennsylvania 
settlements. To spur the same desire was the 
knowledge that the game which he was so fond of 
hunting was rapidly disappearing from Berks County 
before the advance of civilized man. It is easy, 
therefore, to understand the satisfaction with which 
Boone one day heard his father announce his in- 
tention of disposing of his Pennsylvania lands and 
removing to the Yadkin Valley in North Carolina, 
five hundred miles and more to the southwest, 
one of the richest farming sections of the colonial 
South, and, at that time, a veritable paradise for 
game. 

Just why Squire Boone should wish to abandon 
the pleasant home which he had built up with such 
painful effort, does not appear.^ Nor is there any- 

^ It is suggested by Dr. Thwaites that possibly Squire Boone 
moved from Pennsylvania because "the choicest lands of eastern 
Pennsylvania had at last been located," and "the outlook for the 
younger Boones, who soon would need homesteads, did not appear 
encouraging." But this seems scarcely an adequate explanation, 
particularly in view of the great fertility of the Schuylkill Valley, 



The Youth of Daniel Boone 13 

thing to show why he chose the distant Yadkin 
Valley as his future place of abode. But to us these 
are matters of comparative unimportance. The 
great point is that the removal was determined on, 
and that its outcome, in due course of time, was 
to give Daniel Boone an unsurpassed opportunity 
to distinguish himself as an explorer and path-finder 
of the wilderness — an opportunity which it may 
safely be said would never have been his had he 
remained in Berks. 

Some time in the spring of 1750 the start for North 
Carolina was made, the caravan of canvas-covered 
wagons that carried the family of Squire Boone push- 
ing on as rapidly as possible to Harper's Ferry and 
the Valley of Virginia, that magnificent tableland 
which extends for three hundred miles between the 

which Squire Boone would ordinarily be reluctant to abandon 
even for the sake of the "younger Boones." Perhaps the inrush of 
"foreign" immigrants, of the non-English-speaking Dunkards and 
Mennonites and Schwenckfelders, who flocked into Berks County 
between the years 1720 and 1750, may have had something to do 
with his removal. Or there may have been some connection be- 
tween the removal and the fact that both Squire Boone and his son 
Israel were "disowned" by the Society of Friends — Squire in 
1748, or but two years before his departure to North Carolina. 
There was by no means a general Boone exodus from the vicinity. 
I have seen a list of Exeter Township taxables for 1759, and in it 
occur the names of Joseph, James, William, Benjamin, and John 
Boone. 



14 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Blue Ridge and the Alleghanies from the Potomac 
to the Iron Mountains in the extreme southwest 
section of the State after which the valley is named. 
Few details of the journey have been preserved, but 
it is known that Boone acted as hunter and scout 
for the caravan, and that the valley's charms proved 
so attractive that all thoughts of haste were laid 
aside. There is a story, though based only on tra- 
dition, that the travellers camped for many months, 
perhaps even for a year, on Linnville Creek, near 
Harrisonburg, in Rockingham County, Virginia. 
Wherever they lingered, it was not until the late 
autumn of 175 1 that they crossed the Blue Ridge near 
the dividing line between Virginia and North Carolina 
and found themselves within striking distance of 
their destination. 

This was reached when they arrived at the forks 
of the Yadkin, in Davie County, North Carolina. 
Here, as Squire Boone's practised eye at once per- 
ceived, a region of splendid possibilities from a 
farming standpoint offered itself to all comers; and 
casting about, he soon selected a claim where Dutch- 
man's Creek empties its waters into the North Yadkin, 
and once more began the arduous task of con- 
quering the forest and transforming weedy wastes 
into profitable fields. 

As for young Daniel, we may feel confident that 
whenever the opportunity offered, he would steal 



The Youth of Daniel Boone 15 

away from the wood-chopping and the ploughing to 
enjoy a day's hunt. Although a century and a half 
has elapsed since the crack of his rifle first woke the 
echoes of the Carolina mountains, the Old North 
State can still offer attractions to the hunter of big 
game. At the time of Boone's coming it teemed, 
from the Piedmont region westward, with beasts and 
birds of every description. The buffalo, the elk, 
the Virginia deer, the bear, the panther, the wild- 
cat, wolf, and fox wandered through the meadows 
and cane-brakes about its rivers, or took their repose 
amid the cool shades of its rocky heights. Here, 
in truth, as Boone enthusiastically told his father 
and his more phlegmatic brothers, was hunting 
worth the name. 

In imagination it is no difficult matter to see him, 
his five foot ten of sinewy, buck-skinned manhood 
stretched at full length behind a fallen log, finger 
on trigger, ear alert, blue eyes gleaming, thin lips 
doggedly compressed, a healthy glow on his cheek. 
Or, it may be, cutting his way through a tangle of 
undergrowth, leaping silently from rock to rock 
across the bed of a fast-running mountain stream, 
and buoyantly clambering from ridge to ridge of 
some bristhng mountain wall. Never, they say, 
was there such a hunter on the Yadkin, or one who 
so enjoyed the hunter's Hfe. Young, ardent, tire- 
less, burdened with few cares and carrying them 



i6 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

lightly, Daniel Boone found these first years in North 
Carolina pleasant indeed. 

But the time for a rude awakening was drawing 
near. All too soon he would have the realities of 
life thrust upon him, would discover that it is made 
up of something besides the hunt, the feast, and the 
frolic. For, while he was light-heartedly tracking 
the sullen bear to its lair, and merrily dressing the 
freshly slain venison, the clouds of a terrible war were 
steadily gathering to sweep at last in a bloody storm 
along the entire frontier. 



CHAPTER II 
boone's first campaign 

LATE in the summer of 1754, or about the time 
Squire Boone and his family were beginning 
to feel at home in their new surroundings, 
startHno; news reached the settlers of the Yadkin 
Valley. The French, it seemed, had come down 
from Canada into the Ohio country, and had built 
forts there, notwithstanding that England laid claim 
to all that territory. Governor Dinwiddie, of Virginia, 
the colony most interested in sustaining the English 
claim, — since, indeed, it had a claim of its own to 
the Ohio country, based on the terms of its ancient 
charter, — had sent troops under a young Virginia 
officer, George Washington, to build forts for Eng- 
land and dislodge any Frenchmen that might be 
found. There had been a short but spirited con- 
flict. First Washington had surprised, attacked, 
and defeated a French force. Then he, in turn, 
had been attacked, overwhelmed by numbers, and 
compelled to capitulate, being permitted, however, 
to march his men back to Virginia. To the Yadkin 
Valley people, and to the English colonists generally,, 
this sounded very much as though war were inevitable, 
c 17 



1 8 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

The prospect was not altogether displeasing to 
the younger and more reckless and adventurous set- 
tlers. But those of mature experience, and particu- 
larly the dwellers along the border, viewed it with 
undisguised alarm. They knew only too well the 
horrors of a war with the French and their Indian 
allies — the night attack, the sanguinary raid, the 
scalpings, the torturings, the burnings. And, as 
the graybeards among them whispered to one an- 
other, the chances were that the impending strug- 
gle would outdo in bitterness and violence every- 
thing that had preceded it. For it would mean 
more, far more, than the determination of owner- 
ship of the Ohio Valley — it would determine whether 
England or France was to be the arbiterof the destinies 
of America, and whether the colonists of England 
were to remain forever cooped up in the narrow 
strip of territory between the mountains and the sea, 
or should be free to pass the mountains and possess 
themselves of the glorious and almost unoccupied 
country that lay beyond. 

This was the question at issue, a question of pe- 
culiar interest to us, studying, as we are, the first 
phase in the territorial expansion of the American 
people. When young George Washington fired 
that first shot of the French and Indian War in the 
gloomy depths of the trans-Alleghany glades, he 
rang the curtain up on the last act of one of the most 



Boone*s First Campaign 19 

fascinating and tragic dramas of world-history, 
and a drama that had been in progress long before 
Washington or any other colonist of Washington's 
time had seen the light of day. Its opening act — 
or, more accurately, the prologue to its opening act — 
dated as far back as the first settlement of America 
by Englishmen and Frenchmen, and its plot was 
conditioned from the outset by the radically different 
motives that brought the English and the French 
into the New World. 

The English, in the vast majority of cases, had 
crossed the ocean to win homes for themselves in 
a country where they would be free from the crush- 
ing disabilities — the religious persecutions, political 
discriminations, and economic inequalities — under 
which they had labored in their native land. The 
French had been inspired scarcely at all by the home- 
building spirit. Desire to amass wealth, love of 
adventure, and missionary zeal were their great 
motives. As a consequence, the two peoples acted 
very differently when they reached America. The 
English established themselves in compact settle- 
ments along the coast, and began industriously 
to till the soil. The French gave themselves to 
exploring and fur-trading, and dispersed far and 
wide, making friends of the Indians, trafficking with 
them, and Christianizing them. 

In less than a decade after the founding of Quebec, 



20 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

a French missionary friar of the Recollet order was 
laboring among the Lake Huron savages. Only 
a few years more, and the daring young Norman, 
Jean Nicolet,had penetrated as far west as Wisconsin. 
A little later, and before the close of the first half of 
the seventeenth century, the black-gowned Jesuits 
were planting the Cross among the Indians of Sault 
Ste. Marie. In a word, France was rapidly establish- 
ing a title to the ownership of the vast interior region 
of the North American continent. 

All this time the English colonists had made next 
to no progress so far as territorial expansion was 
concerned, their "farthest west" as late as 1660 
being only a few miles from the coast, in the upper 
valley of the Connecticut. But, as the authorities 
in Quebec saw clearly enough, they were rapidly 
outdistancing the inhabitants of New France in 
point of population, the increase being at the rate 
of nearly thirty to one in favor of the English. This 
meant that, if they continued to increase in the same 
proportion, it could only be a question of time before 
they would overflow into territory claimed by France. 
In fact, there had already been an armed invasion 
of Arcadia by volunteer soldiers from New England. 

Louis XIV, king of France, vigorously attacked 
the problem thus presented to him, dissolving, in 
1663, the colonization company that had hitherto 
mismanaged the affairs of New France and sending 



Boone's First Campaign 2i 

out rulers of his own choosing, men who were, like 
Kins Louis himself, zealous to exalt the fleur-de-lis. 
Chief among these were the famous Talon and the 
still more famous Frontenac. 

Under their leadership there at once began a 
systematic development of what historians have 
called the "hinterland movement." It involved 
nothing less than the exploration and occupation of 
the entire Mississippi Valley, and the construction 
of a chain of forts and trading-stations designed to 
connect the mouth of the Mississippi with the mouth 
of the St. Lawrence, and to oppose an effectual 
barrier to the English colonists if they attempted to 
cross the mountain wall that stretched for hundreds 
of miles between the coastal strip and the Mississippi 
country. A beginning, and a magnificent beginning, 
was made to this ambitious project with the ex- 
plorations of Marquette and Joliet, La Salle and 
Tonti, Iberville and Bienville. And at the same 
time, both to weaken the English and to divert their 
attention from these inland operations, the rulers 
of New France embarked on a policy of armed 
aggression, enlisting the services of Indian allies for 
a series of murderous border raids. 

Thus opened in 1689 the memorable Seventy 
Years' War. You will not find it under that name 
in the histories, where it is usually treated as a suc- 
cession of different wars, called respectively King 



22 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

William's War, Queen Anne's War, King George's 
War, and the French and Indian War. All these, 
however, were parts of one and the same conflict, 
broken by intermittent truces, such as the Peace of 
Aix-la-Chapelle, which lasted just long enough for 
the combatants to recover their breath. Up to the 
French and Indian War the EngHsh colonists were, 
in the main, left to fight their battles by themselves 
— a circumstance which had not a little to do with 
weakening their attachment to the mother country. 
But they more than held their own with the French, 
and steadily extended their settlements closer to 
the mountain wall, even venturing upon explora- 
tions in the forbidden country on the other side of it. 
Finally a day came when the supreme trial of 
strength could no longer be avoided. In 1748, 
the year of the signing of the Treaty of Aix-la- 
Chapelle, a company was organized in Virginia for 
the express purpose of planting an English colony 
in the Ohio Valley, and in the same year English 
settlers raised their cabins on the banks of the Green- 
brier River in West Virginia, the first of that race 
to make a home on a west-flowing American stream. 
At once the French took alarm, and the following 
year sent a representative, Celoron de Bienville, to 
traverse the Ohio Valley and take formal possession 
of it in the name of the king of France, driving out 
all English settlers and traders encountered by him, 



Boone's First Campaign 23 

and making sure of the allegiance of the native in- 
habitants. But Celoron's expedition was of little 
effect, the English traders among the Indian villages 
of the Ohio paying no attention to his warnings and 
threats, and the Indians showing themselves for the 
moment none too well disposed towards the French. 

The situation was completely changed, however, 
by the arrival at Quebec of a new governor, the 
Marquis Duquesne de Menneville, who brought 
with him the most positive instructions to vindicate 
the title to the Mississippi Valley claimed by France 
by virtue of La Salle's discoveries, and of possession 
as exemplified in the old French trading-stations 
in the Illinois country and elsewhere. In accordance 
with these instructions, Duquesne sent out a body 
of troops to construct and garrison a number of 
forts along the alleged boundary-Hne between the 
dominions of the two rival Powers. It was this that 
had occasioned the expedition commanded by Wash- 
ington, and it was thus that, after more than half a 
century of indecisive warfare. Frenchman and EngHsh- 
man at last stood face to face, conscious that the time 
had arrived for a fight to the death. 

All through the winter of 1754-55, following 
Washington's defeat, there were intimations of the 
approaching storm. The Ohio Indians, and par- 
ticularly the Shawnees, showed themselves hostile 
to the English traders, who promptly took refuge 



24 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

in the older settlements east of the mountains. The 
Indians of the Valley of Virginia, hitherto, as a rule, 
on friendly terms with the white settlers, became 
sullen and treacherous, and ultimately withdrew 
altogether from the valley, to return to it only as 
frenzied, blood-thirsting raiders. Here and there, 
along the border, were occasional outbreaks, swift 
and sudden descents which left a faint, but still 
significant, trail of blood and ashes. The Yadkin 
country, where the Boones dwelt, was practically 
free from such alarms, for it was only at a later date 
that the Indians of the South took the war-path 
in the interests of the French. But with reports of 
murder and rapine coming to them from none too 
distant quarters, the settlers along the Yadkin awaited 
anxiously the news of the raising of a punitive ex- 
pedition strong enough to suppress the pernicious 
activities of the French and their Indians. 

Among those most ardently hopeful that such an 
expedition would soon be organized was Daniel 
Boone. It is said, in fact, that he was so eager to 
be up and at the enemy that he hurried to Pennsyl- 
vania and passed the winter in scout duty on its 
exposed frontier. This is not impossible, but it is 
rather unlikely, for it was only on occasions of ex- 
treme crisis that the frontiersmen of that time were 
wont to rally to the protection of a remote locality. 
They were too well aware that at any moment the 



Boone's First Campaign 25 

foe might strike an unexpected blow at their own 
homes, and they had no fancy to leave their loved 
ones at the mercy of the painted savage. This, 
rather than callous indifference to the sufferings of 
others, is the true explanation of the absence of united 
action on the part of the people of the border in times 
of war — although, it is proper to add, it scarcely 
suffices to explain the dissension manifest among 
the colonists generally from the beginning to the 
end of the Seventy Years' War, and at all times 
handicapping greatly the operations against the 
French. 

Nor does it altogether explain why North Carolina, 
when the call finally came for volunteers to aid 
in avenging Washington's defeat and driving the 
French back to Canada, sent a scant hundred 
men to represent her, under the command of Cap- 
tain Edward B. Dobbs, son of the governor of the 
province.^ 

With this North Carolina contingent went Daniel 
Boone. He was then less than twenty-one years old, 
and was probably the youngest among the entire 

^ It has been quite generally believed that there were two com- 
panies from North Carolina in the Braddock expedition, one under 
Dobbs, and another under Captain Hugh Waddell, but as Mr. 
G. A. Ashe has shown in his recently published "History of North 
Carolina," Waddell's company did not join Braddock, but served 
as a guard along the North Carolina frontier. 



26 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

hundred, nearly all of whom were backwoodsmen 
like himself. By forced marches the little regiment 
made its way northward until, some time in May, 
1755, it arrived at Fort Cumberland, which had been 
built only the previous autumn at the juncture, 
in western Maryland, of Wills Creek and the Potomac 
River. It was from this point that the punitive 
expedition planned to march against the French 
stronghold of Fort Duquesne, at the forks of the 
Ohio, where Pittsburg stands to-day. 

Although the distance from Fort Cumberland to 
Fort Duquesne was only eighty miles as the crow 
flies, the way led through an almost trackless wilder- 
ness of mountain and forest, river and swamp, so 
difficult that the French were confident the EngHsh 
could never traverse it. 

They did not take into their reckoning the com- 
mander chosen to lead the expedition against them, 
a typical English bull-dog named Edward Braddock, 
a soldier of many European campaigns, of a brutal 
and domineering disposition, but conceded even by 
his enemies to be a man of dauntless courage. 
General Braddock had been despatched from Eng- 
land with two regiments — the Forty-fourth and the 
Forty-eighth — for the special purpose of establish- 
ing English sovereignty in the valley of the Ohio, and 
he had already given signal proof of his masterfulness 
by the way in which he succeeded in wringing troops 



Boone's First Campaign 27 

• 

and supplies from reluctant colonial authorities.^ 
His one great defect was a stubborn self-will, so 
extreme as to render him deaf to suggestions, im- 
movable in his own beliefs and decisions, and in- 
capable, as was fatally demonstrated, of knowing 
when he was beaten. 

It was also unfortunate — though not at all ex- 
ceptional, for the feeling was shared by almost every 
English officer who played any prominent part in 
the French and Indian War — that he betrayed 
an open contempt for the colonial troops. Besides 
the two regiments of regulars and a detachment of 
marines, his wilderness army eventually included 
volunteers from New York, Maryland, Virginia 
(four hundred and fifty picked marksmen, under 
Washington), and the Carolinas. Of these he spoke 
and wrote in most slighting terms, lamenting that 

^ Until recently it has been customary to sneer at Braddock and 
abuse him unsparingly, placing at his door all responsibility of 
the crushing defeat in the Turtle Creek ravine. But modern re- 
search has made it clear that had it not been for colonial back- 
wardness in cooperating with him, history might have had an 
altogether different story to tell. Explicit instructions had been 
sent by the Home Government, requiring the raising of troops and 
money, the procuring of supplies, and the opening of roads, prior 
to Braddock's arrival in America. So little attention was paid to 
these instructions that Braddock was obliged to organize the ex- 
pedition practically single-handed. This meant a loss of much 
valuable time. 



28 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

their ** slothful and languid disposition renders them 
very unfit for military service." Naturally, lan- 
guage such as this — and the volunteers doubtless 
heard its equivalent in blunter phraseology — would 
not tend to make him a popular commander; nor 
v^ould the severity v^ith v^hich he drilled them, day 
after day, in the open space about Fort Cumberland. 

Still, being fair-minded men, they unquestionably 
would set down to his credit his evident desire to 
make the expedition a success in every particular; 
and they also would not overlook the fact that he had 
paid them the compliment of selecting the popular 
young George Washington as one of his chief staff 
officers. Besides they saw clearly enough that, 
whatever his faults, Braddock was of fighting stuff, 
and could be depended upon to satisfy their desire 
to come to close grips with the French. So that it 
is likely they took a more favorable view of him 
than many who did not know him at all have since 
done. At any rate, they responded with alacrity 
when, early in June, the command was given to 
break camp and begin the march to Fort Duquesne. 

It is not necessary to enter into the details of this 
journey across the mountains, by a path so narrow 
that a regiment of engineers and woodchoppers had 
to lead the way and build a road which in after 
years, under the name of "Braddock's Road," was 
to become one of the great arteries of communication 



Boone's First Campaign 29 

between the East and the early West. What Is of 
importance, from our point of view, is to note that 
Daniel Boone, instead of being allowed to accom- 
pany his North Carolina comrades, was compelled 
to follow humbly in the rear of the long, winding 
procession, having been assigned to the duties of 
a wagoner and mechanic, on the strength of his 
blacksmithing experience. This was not making 
war as he had dreamed of making it. Yet it had 
its compensations. 

Not the least of these was the opportunity it gave 
him for long talks with men who, as hunters or 
traders, had an intimate knowledge of the Indian 
country beyond the mountains through which Brad- 
dock's column was slowly toiling. Most of all he 
took pleasure in the astonishing tales of a certain 
John Finley, who, for the sake of barter with the 
savages, had visited their villages on the Ohio, and 
had even penetrated into regions more remote. To 
Boone's eager demand whether good hunting was 
to be had, Finley replied that the hunting there, 
particularly in the country south of the Ohio, was 
the best in the world. 

Two years before, he then explained, he had 
visited this country, and had found it a second 
Garden of Eden, blessed with the richest of soils 
and the balmiest of climates, with noble forests and 
luxuriant expanses, where thousands of buffalo and 



30 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

other big game browsed. The Indians called this 
wonderful country *' Kentucky/' and preserved it as 
a hunting-ground nominally open to all. So bitter, 
though, were the tribal animosities and jealousies 
that as often as not hunting-parties were transformed 
into war-parties at a moment's notice, and Kentucky 
became the scene, not of a hunt, but of a battle. 
Hence, for all its beauty, it was a dark and bloody 
land, and one where the white man would instantly 
be deemed an interloper. Finley himself, it appeared, 
had been obHged to return to the settlements sooner 
than he desired, because of the evident resentment 
of the Indians at his having dared to visit Kentucky. 
Fascinated, Boone absorbed his companion's 
word-pictures. Neither of them realized that, as 
they trudged along side by side, or chatted together 
in the quiet of the evening, they were making history 
of a world-wide interest. Not for a moment did 
they dream that their chance meeting in Braddock's 
ill-starred campaign was to be the means of bring- 
ing one of them imperishable renown. They only 
knew that they had taken a warm liking to each 
other, and that in Kentucky they had found a theme 
of mutual interest. Both of them were young, con- 
fident, and high-spirited. The daring of Boone 
found counterpart in the Scotch-Irish ardor of 
Finley. And thus it came about that from discussing 
Kentucky they passed to planning a journey to it. 



Boone's First Campaign 31 

From North Carolina, Finley told Boone, it could 
be reached by an Indian trail that ran northwestward 
until it left the mountains at Cumberland Gap. 
There was yet another route by canoe down the 
Ohio River to the mouth of a stream which itself 
bore the name of Kentucky and watered the 
delectable land. Perhaps after the French had 
been driven from Fort Duquesne they might find 
opportunity to voyage to Kentucky by the river 
route. 

In this, however, as they were all too soon made 
aware, they were doomed to bitter disappointment. 
The farther Braddock's expedition advanced, the 
slower its progress became, until the stern-faced 
backwoodsmen themselves began to fear that the 
goal would never be reached, and that the confidence 
of the French in the inaccessibility of their position 
would be justified. But Braddock, bull-dog Brad- 
dock, refused to turn back. For once, though, he 
listened to the advice of others, and on Washington's 
suggestion split his column in two, leaving the less 
able-bodied troops to act as a reserve. Thus reHeved, 
he again pushed towards Fort Duquesne, but still 
at so slow a pace that Washington, burning with 
impatience as well as with a fever which had for 
a time totally incapacitated him, afterwards com- 
plained that instead of proceeding vigorously "they 
were halting to level every mole-hill, and to erect 



32 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

bridges over every brook, by v^hich means we v^ere 
four days in getting tv^elve miles." 

Nevertheless, the very fact that he was able to 
advance his troops the tv^elve miles, was sufficient 
proof that Braddock was accomplishing what many 
had declared to be impossible. In Fort Duquesne 
the news of his approach caused great dismay. 
Expected reenforcements had failed to arrive, and 
the commandant, Contrecceur, could see no way 
to avoid a surrender, especially after the discovery 
that his Indians were panic-stricken at the enemy's 
successful passage of the mountains. There was 
no use, he told himself, in offering resistance; he 
would simply be overwhelmed. 

Thoroughly despondent, he shook his head hope- 
lessly when one of his young captains, a daredevil 
named Beaujeu, asked leave to take troops and 
Indians, and make a last-ditch stand against the 
English, then less than ten miles from the fort. 
The Indians, Contrecceur feared, would not lend 
their aid, and he had no wish to see his garrison cut 
to pieces. 

But Beaujeu was as shrewd as he was brave. 
Donning savage costume, painting himself, and 
throwing an Indian gorget about his neck for good 
luck, he visited the encampment where the red men 
were gloomily awaiting the capitulation. 

"Brothers," cried he, "I am told that you refuse 



Boone's First Campaign 33 

to march with me against the enemy. But I will 
face the foe, even if I must go alone. And that, I 
know, you will never suffer. Come ! Up and 
follow me ! " 

For a moment, silence. Then a mad outburst of 
shouts and cheers. If it be true, as has been said, 
that the great Ottawa war lord, Pontiac, was at 
Fort Duquesne that day, there is no need to seek 
further for the first chieftain to respond to Beaujeu's 
gallant appeal. 

Headlong down the narrow trail to the Monon- 
gahela the young captain raced at top speed, fol- 
lowed by a motley host of Indians, Canadians, and 
French regulars, some eight hundred in all. It 
was then high noon of the 9th of July. Between 
two and three o'clock on the upland trail in the midst 
of the Turtle Creek ravine, they encountered the 
English. 

Beaujeu, coming unexpectedly on Braddock's 
engineers, who were busy at their road-building, 
stopped short and waved his hat. Instantly the 
Indians, leaping to this side and that, buried them- 
selves in the dense thickets that encumbered the 
trail. Then, as the retreating engineers and the 
advancing main body of the English came together 
in a confused mass on the narrow trail, the rain of 
bullets began — thick, fast, deadly. 

In vain Braddock tried to form his men for a 



34 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

charge that should clear the underbrush of the hid- 
den foe. The first attack had completely disorgan- 
ii^ed his regulars; while the colonial troops, skilled 
Indian fighters all, had instinctively broken ranks 
and begun fighting from cover. Braddock's men, 
falling Hke leaves in an autumn gale, sought to profit 
by their example; but Braddock himself, notwith- 
standing the expostulations of Washington, beat 
them back into the open with the flat of his sword, 
vainly urging them to form and charge. 

He was demanding the unattainable. Time and 
again, in Httle squads that offered a splendid target 
to the French and Indian marksmen, the redcoats 
plunged into the ravine, many of them never more 
to retrain the trail. 

Beaujeu had fallen almost at the first fire, but now 
there were many eager to take his place, and the 
allies did not lack for leadership. Braddock, for 
his part, was here, there, and everywhere, until at 
last he too dropped with a mortal wound. Sir 
Peter Halket, second in command, lay dead, with the 
corpse of his son lying across his own. Still the 
rain of bullets continued, and still the doomed army 
battled magnificently in a vain effort to stave off 
the inevitable. When, however, late in the after- 
noon, the retreat was ordered, a natural reaction 
set in; and, seized with an insane panic, the survivors 
fled back to the reserves. 



Boone*s First Campaign 35 

Beyond the Monongahela, which was recrossed 
by but a pitiful fraction of the advance colurnn, 
there was no pursuit; but still they fled. And, 
their terror infecting the reserves, the panic grew, 
until finally all the remnants of Braddock's beaten- 
army were in full flight, stumbHng and staggering 
along the rugged road towards the protecting stockade 
of Fort Cumberland. 

What Daniel Boone was doing all this time, we 
have no means of knowing. But now, for a moment, 
we catch a glimpse of him among the fugitives, on 
the back of one of his wagon-horses, galloping at top 
speed. It was hardly a glorious ending to his first 
campaign, and his bitterness and chagrin can readily 
be imagined. Yet he would have found ample con- 
solation could he but have pierced the veil of the 
future and beheld the notable events, growing directly 
or indirectly out of this disastrous experience, in 
which he was to fill the leading role. 



CHAPTER III 

DARK DAYS ON THE BORDER 

THE immediate result of Braddock's defeat was 
to expose the frontier to all the horrors of In- 
dian warfare. Colonel Dunbar, who had suc- 
ceeded to the command, in the face of frantic protests 
by the frontiersmen of Virginia, Maryland, and Penn- 
sylvania, hurried his surviving regulars from Fort 
Cumberland to comfortable quarters in Philadelphia, 
and left the savage allies of the French at liberty to 
harass and plunder the outlying settlements. Only 
George Washington, then as ever a heroic figure in 
the annals of the country, remained to organize the 
unhappy border folk into some semblance of an 
effective military force. 

Braddock's Road, which it had been so fondly 
hoped would prove a highway to the mastery of the 
Ohio Valley, now formed a dread line of communi- 
cation between the victorious French and the help- 
less settlers. At an early day following the disaster 
in the ravine, the commandant of Fort Duquesne 
could truthfully report that he had destroyed the 
border settlements over a tract of country thirty 
leagues wide, reckoning from the line of Fort Cum- 

36 



Dark Days on the Border 37 

berland, and that the villages of his Indians were 
full of prisoners. 

Even in the extreme South — that is, in the Caro- 
linas and Georgia — there were rumors that the 
native tribes, and more especially the Cherokees, 
were growing restive, and were Hkely to take the 
war-path at any time. This led to the building of 
several stockaded forts of the type which Mr. James 
Lane Allen has aptly called "rustic castles." Both 
rustic and castle-Hke they looked, with their stout, 
sharply pointed, twelve-foot palisades and their 
three-storied blockhouses. One, Fort Prince George, 
stood on the upper waters of the Savannah River, 
near its source; another. Fort Loudon, on the Little 
Tennessee, about thirty miles from the present town 
of Knoxville; a third. Fort Dobbs, not far below 
the forks of the Yadkin. These three forts guarded 
the approach from the southwest, and all of them 
were garrisoned to a fair strength. After which, 
the Southern borderers quietly awaited the develop- 
ment of events. 

Soon, nothing untoward occurring, they resumed 
their pastoral mode of life, cultivating their farms 
and herding their sheep and cattle as usual. To 
this the Yadkin Valley settlers, Daniel Boone among 
them, — for he had returned home immediately 
after the fatal ending of the Braddock campaign, — 
proved no exception. Boone himself, with an un- 



38 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

wonted energy and steadfastness, lent a hand in 
the daily tasks of his father's farm, ploughing, seed- 
ing, and harvesting with the utmost dihgence. For 
the present, chastened by his experiences with Brad- 
dock, he had lost all disposition to roam, and if he 
still secretly cherished the dreams that had been in- 
spired by Finley's romantic stories, he rigorously 
subdued them. Besides, he was now urged to earnest 
effort by the greatest of human motives, for he had 
fallen in love. 

In the Yadkin settlements, at the forks of the 
Yadkin, and thus quite near the Boone homestead, 
lived a Scotch-Irish family of Bryans, a simple, 
primitive people, of strong passions and big hearts. 
Among the younger Bryans was a black-eyed, rosy- 
cheeked lass named Rebecca, who made a conquest 
of Daniel Boone almost at first sight. She was only 
fifteen when they plighted their troth, and but two 
years older when Daniel's father, in his capacity 
of justice of the peace, read the service that made 
them man and wife. For a time they found a home 
in a rude cabin on the Boone farm, but before long 
Daniel set up a cabin of his own on land a few miles 
distant. Here, the following year, a son, James, 
was born to them ; and two years afterwards another 
son, whom they named Israel. 

Meanwhile the proud husband and father toiled 
like the proverbial beaver, sowing and reaping his 



Dark Days on the Border 39 

crops, raising livestock, hunting wild animals for 
the sake of their meat and furs, and occasionally 
adding to his always meagre income by serving as 
a wagoner in one of the caravans that from time to 
time wound through the foot-hills to the markets 
of the coast, where the backwoods products were 
exchanged for salt and iron and other necessaries. 
Some smithing he did also, and possibly took his 
turn at the loom, as he had done in the by-gone days 
of his boyhood in Pennsylvania. 

Thus he passed his time, happily and hopefully, 
if laboriously, until the early spring of 1759, the 
year which before its close witnessed the historic 
battle on the Plains of Abraham, when Wolfe, by 
the conquest of Quebec, sounded the death-knell 
of French authority in America. All through the 
winter there had been signs that the Carolina frontiers 
could not expect much longer to escape the fury of 
the Indians. In 1758 the Cherokees, instigated by 
French emissaries and also influenced by a well- 
grounded fear that the EngHsh intended some day 
to possess themselves of the tribal lands on the Little 
Tennessee, had gone raiding in the Valley of Virginia 
with deadly results. In April, 1759, they forced 
an entrance into the fertile Yadkin and Catawba 
valleys, destroyed crops, burned cabins, murdered 
settlers, and dragged their wives and children into 
a cruel captivity. 



40 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

So sudden and severe was the blow that the stricken 
people had no opportunity to rally for an organized 
resistance, much less undertake an offensive cam- 
paign. Abandoning their farms, they hastened for 
shelter to the strong stockade of Fort Dobbs, or to 
hurriedly constructed ''houses of refuge"; or else, 
if they could possibly find the means to do so, fled 
with all their belongings to the settlements in the 
tide-water country. This was the course followed 
by the Boones, or at least by Squire Boone, his son 
Daniel, and their respective families. Squire, it is 
said, went to Maryland. Daniel took Rebecca and 
their infant children to eastern Virginia, where he 
found employment at his old occupation of wagoner. 

It was not in his nature, however, to remain in 
a stranger's land, and leave to others the task of 
defending his hearth and home. So soon as he had 
satisfied himself that his little family would not be 
exposed to want, he returned to the border, where he 
found thrilling events in progress. The Cherokees 
had laid a desperate siege to Fort Dobbs, but had 
been gallantly beaten off by its garrison under the 
command of Colonel Hugh Waddell, one of the 
foremost Indian fighters of his day. They had 
then renewed their depredations in small war-parties, 
ultimately gathering in force to attack Fort Prince 
George. 

In the meantime a British army officer, Colonel 



Dark Days on the Border 41 

Montgomery, had organized a strong punitive ex- 
pedition. It included two regiments of regulars, 
fresh from their victories in Canada, and several 
hundred Carolina backwoodsmen, led by Waddell. 
With Waddell went Daniel Boone. A swift march 
to Fort Prince George resulted in its instant relief, 
and the destruction of a number of Cherokee villages 
in the country round about it. At one of these. 
Little Keowee, the troops effected a night surprise, 
and tradition has it that not one of the warriors 
found there was left aHve. Then Montgomery 
hurried his soldiers across the mountains, resolved 
to deal a decisive blow to the more important Indian 
towns on the Little Tennessee. 

But he had underestimated the desperate valor of 
the Cherokees, now fighting for their very existence. 
Although the English column was almost two thou- 
sand strong, they did not hesitate to lay an ambush 
for it. Beneath the fragrant laurels and behind the 
mossy rocks of a steep mountain road they hid 
themselves, while their spies kept them constantly 
informed of the approach of the unsuspecting soldiers. 
Not a rifle cracked, not a war-whoop was heard 
until the invaders were well within the trap set for 
them. Then, at a signal, a sheet of flame burst 
from the verdant roadside, and exultant shouts from 
six hundred savage throats went echoing down the 
narrow gorge. 



42 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

It was a complete surprise — far more of a sur- 
prise than that experienced by poor Braddock. 
But, rallying his men, many of whom had fallen 
dead or wounded at the first volley, Montgomery 
fought bravely for a full hour. The Indians, no less 
brave, and having the advantage of knowing every 
inch of the ground, were not to be shaken off, but 
hung hke leeches to the flanks of the stricken column, 
which at last was forced to retreat back to Fort 
Prince George, dogged every step of the way by the 
triumphant and vindictive Indians. 

Nothing but the poor marksmanship of the Cher- 
okees, and the courageous rear-guard defence of 
Waddell's borderers, averted a disaster comparable 
with that sustained by Braddock. As it was, Mont- 
gomery lost twenty men killed and seventy-six badly 
wounded; and, abandoning all thought of further 
chastising the savages, marched his regulars from 
Fort Prince George to Charleston, whence he pres- 
ently embarked with them for New York. Once 
more the frontier of Georgia and the Carolinas lay 
at the mercy of the copper-colored foe. 

But instead of following up this advantage, and 
immediately plundering and ravaging as before, 
the Cherokees first of all turned their attention to 
the conquest of Fort Loudon, which stood a solitary 
Enghsh outpost in the very heart of the Cherokee 
country and one hundred and fifty miles from the 



Dark Days on the Border 43 

nearest white settlement. For some weeks the gar- 
rison, which numbered in all two hundred regular 
soldiers, made a determined resistance; but the 
surrender of the fort was ultimately forced by the 
failure of the food supply. It was stipulated that 
the soldiers should be allowed to march out under 
arms, and proceed unmolested to Fort Prince George 
or to the Virginia settlements, whichever they pre- 
ferred. Nevertheless, when only fifteen miles from 
Fort Loudon, they were attacked by the Cherokees, 
and either killed or taken prisoner. Accounts differ 
as to the loss of Kfe, the estimates ranging from thirty 
to two hundred slain. 

Whatever the exact figure, this most treacherous 
massacre proved the undoing of the Cherokees, 
for it aroused the colonial authorities to the necessity 
of taking drastic measures to stem the Indian tide 
that now threatened to engulf every outlying settle- 
ment. A joint invasion of the Cherokee country 
was decided on by the governors of Virginia, North 
Carolina, and South Carolina, and by June of 1761 
two armies were on the march. One, consisting 
chiefly of Scotch regulars and South Carolina militia, 
and commanded by a Highlander, Colonel James 
Grant, advanced against the towns on the Little 
Tennessee by way of Fort Prince George. The 
other approached the same destination from the 
north, and was composed of Virginia and North 



44 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Carolina backwoodsmen under Colonels Byrd and 
Waddell. In this second army Boone again found a 
place, serving once more under the valiant Waddell. 
But he was destined on this occasion to witness little 
or no fighting, for Grant anticipated Byrd and Wad- 
dell in meeting the Cherokees, whom he fought on 
the very battle-ground where Montgomery had been 
so disastrously repulsed the previous year. 

Establishing themselves on a hill, the Indians for 
three hours successfully resisted every attempt at 
dislodgment, and at the same time numbers of them 
harassed the army by a galling fire from the bushes 
and rocks. For a while it almost seemed as though 
their bravery would be rewarded with another 
victory. But at eleven o'clock — the engagement 
having begun at eight in the morning of June 1 1 — 
they suddenly gave way, and a running battle followed 
until two in the afternoon with little damage to either 
side. All told, indeed, the loss to the whites was 
only between fifty and sixty men killed and wounded, 
while the Indians suflFered little more severely. Still 
the battle was in the truest sense a "decisive" one. 

It taught the Cherokees that their only safety lay 
in making peace as quickly as possible. Submitting 
to Grant, they submitted also to Byrd and Waddell, 
and after some tedious negotiations a treaty of am- 
ity was signed on Nov. 19. By its provisions the 
Cherokees were to remain in possession of their 



Dark Days on the Border 45 

ancestral lands, and were to cease from troubling 
the whites for all time to come — or, to put it in the 
poetic phraseology of Indian treaty makers, they 
were to '' keep the chain of friendship bright so long as 
rivers flow, grasses grow, and sun and moon endure." 

It was a noteworthy treaty, ending a noteworthy 
war. Hewatt and Ramsay and other early his- 
torians have described this struggle between the 
Cherokee and the CaroHnian as one among "the 
last humbling strokes given to the expiring power 
of France in North America." It was that, and it 
was more, since it had an important bearing on the 
opening up of the unoccupied country west of the 
mountains. As has been stated. Fort Loudon was 
situated one hundred and fifty miles in advance of 
the nearest white settlement. Between it and the 
Carolina borders lay a difficult but fertile expanse of 
mountain and valley practically unexplored prior 
to the Cherokee War. The successive campaigns 
of Montgomery, Grant, Byrd, and Waddell revealed 
this territory in all its richness, proved that it was 
not so inaccessible as had generally been supposed, 
and aroused in many frontiersmen the desire to make 
their homes in a region where nature's gifts were so 
bountiful. 

Consequently, after the signing of the Cherokee 
Treaty, and the more far-reaching Treaty of 1763, 
by which France formally relinquished her American 



46 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

claims, there was great activity along the southwest 
frontier. Settlements became more numerous in 
the Valley of Virginia and the Piedmont section of 
the Carolinas, there was a constant edging westward 
by the more daring pioneers, and hunting parties 
for the first time penetrated the mountain fastnesses 
in which the buffalo and bear and deer had taken 
refuge from the oncoming wave of civilization. 

In this mid-mountain hunting no one was so con- 
spicuous as Daniel Boone. The Cherokee cam- 
paigning had reawakened all his latent passion 
for adventure, and although he brought his family 
back to the Yadkin as soon as peace had been made 
sure, he found it impossible to resume the humdrum 
Hfe of the stay-at-home farmer. More than ever he 
relied on the products of the chase to supply him with 
a livelihood, and since game had become scarce in 
the Yadkin Valley, he of necessity, as well as choice, 
embarked on long and perilous hunting-trips. As 
early as 1760 he was threading his way through the 
Watauga wilds, where the first settlement in Tennes- 
see was afterwards estabHshed.^ In 1761, at the 
head of a hunting-party which crossed the Alleghanies 
that year, "came Daniel Boone from the Yadkin, 

^ Until a few years ago there stood on the bank of Boone's Creek, 
a tributary of the Watauga River, a beach tree bearing on its time- 
incrusted bark a hunting-knife inscription which testified that 
*' D. Boon cilled a bar on this tree in the year 1760." 



Dark Days on the Border 47 

in North Carolina, and travelled with them as low 
as the place where Abingdon now stands, and there 
left them." 

Three years later he was once more in the Ten- 
nessee country. It was on this occasion that he is 
reported to have cried, while gazing from a Cumber- 
land Mountain peak at a herd of buffalo grazing below: 
"I am richer than the man mentioned in scripture, 
who owned the cattle on a thousand hills — I own the 
wild beasts of more than a thousand valleys ! '' 

In the following year — 1765 — he actually carried 
his explorations as far south as Florida, and almost 
made up his mind to settle at Pensacola. Had he 
done so, the chances are that nothing more would 
have been heard of him. Assuredly, he would never 
have won fame as the great pilot of the early West. 
But, dissuaded by his wife, he abandoned this plan, 
and once more gave himself whole-heartedly to the 
pursuit of the big game of the mountain ranges. 

Sometimes he took with him his oldest son, James, 
then a boy of eight. More frequently he journeyed 
in absolute solitude, pressing restlessly forward on 
the trail of the retreating beasts of prey. Always, 
he noted, this led him towards the west; and ere- 
long there recurred to his mind the glowing tales 
he had heard from the trader Finley in the sad days 
of Braddock's campaign. It must be to Kentucky, 
the hunter's paradise, that the wild animals were 



48 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

fleeing. He had vowed to visit Kentucky. Nov^, 
if ever, while the Indians were at peace with the 
whites, was the time to fulfil that vow. 

But, as he soon discovered, it was no easy matter 
to reach Kentucky. In the autumn of 1767 he made 
his first start, accompanied by a friend named Hill 
and, it is thought, by his brother, Squire Boone, 
named after their brave old father who had died two 
years before. The route followed was from the 
Yadkin to the valleys of the Holston and Clinch, 
and thence to the head waters of the West Fork of 
the Big Sandy. Boone's plan was to strike the Ohio, 
and follow it to the falls of which Finley had told him. 
But they had only touched the eastern edge of Ken- 
tucky when they were snow-bound and compelled 
to go into camp for the winter. Attempting to renew 
their journey in the spring, they found the country 
so impenetrable that they soon abandoned all idea 
of entering and exploring it by that route, and made 
their way back to the Yadkin, laden with the spoils 
of the winter's hunting. 

Whether, if left to himself, Boone would again 
have endeavored to find a way into Kentucky, there 
is no means of knowing. But just at this juncture, 
and guided, it would seem, by the finger of Fate, 
there unexpectedly appeared in the Yadkin Valley 
the one man best calculated to hold him to his pur- 
pose — the trader, John Finley. 



CHAPTER IV 

BOONE's explorations in KENTUCKY 

WITH the advent of John Finley in the Yad- 
kin Valley that part of Boone's career 
which really belongs to history may be 
said to have begun. He was then in his thirty-fifth 
year, and, as the reader will have perceived, had as 
yet done little in the way of actual achievement. 
Two of the three military campaigns in which he had 
taken part had been miserable failures, and for the 
rest his Hfe had been spent in a desultory way, diflFer- 
ing only in degree from that of hundreds of other 
young borderers. 

Yet his roaming and hunting, his incessant wan- 
dering, and his attentive studying of the ways of 
nature had constituted the best of apprenticeships 
for his future labors. And it is precisely because of 
this that such emphasis has been laid in the preceding 
pages on the events of what may fairly be called his 
probationary period. 

He found Finley enthusiastic as ever with regard 
to Kentucky, and entirely willing to act as guide to 
an exploring party. It was then too late in the year 
to attempt to cross the mountains, but Boone prom- 
ised himself an early start with the coming of spring, 

E 49 



50 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and at once began to seek among his neighbors for 
fellow-travellers. In this he had the efficient co- 
operation of Finley, who remained on the Yadkin all 
winter as Boone's guest, and contrived to make the 
long winter evenings pass most pleasantly with stories 
of his own adventures in the forests and cane- 
brakes of Kentucky. Added to the effect of such 
tales, from the standpoint of securing volunteers for 
the enterprise, was the fact that the dwellers along 
the Yadkin, in common with many of their fellow- 
settlers throughout the Piedmont region of North 
Carolina, were growing restless and discontented 
under conditions which presently led to an outbreak 
of civil war. 

There had been a rapid increase in population 
since the close of the Cherokee War, and with the 
newcomers had appeared not merely the farmer and 
hunter and trader but also the tax-collector. Cor- 
rupt officials and cunning lawyers preyed upon the 
simple frontiersmen until, driven to desperation by a 
sense of wrongs which the courts seemed unwilling 
to correct, the men of the border united in an armed 
protest known in history as the War of the Regula- 
tion. This is not the place to give a narrative of its 
tumultuous events,^ but it is important to recognize 

^ The most authoritative and scholarly account of the War of 
the Regulation is contained in Professor John S. Bassett's "The 
Regulators of North Carolina," a monograph published as part of 



Boone's Explorations in Kentucky 51 

the influence it exercised on the opening up of the 
West. It made men eager to hazard the perils of 
the remote wilderness, in preference to remaining in 
settled communities where injustice was rampant. 
Especially did it contribute to the first settlement of 
Tennessee. And, although its crisis had not been 
reached at the time of Finley's sojourn with Boone, 
the situation had become sufficiently acute to account 
for the readiness with which volunteers stepped for- 
ward in response to Boone's appeal. 

Among those offering their services was Boone's 
brother, Squire. It was wisely determined, however, 
that he should remain at home to harvest his own 
and Daniel's crops, and should then follow them 
across the mountains with fresh horses and an ad- 
ditional supply of ammunition. As finally selected 
the exploring party included Finley, Boone, a brother- 
in-law of Boone's named John Stuart, and three 
other Yadkin settlers, Joseph Holden, James Mooney, 
and WiUiam Cooley. 

All six were resolute, hardy men, expert shots, 
and equal to every emergency. With the exception 
of Finley, it is believed that they were all men of 
family, but there is nothing to show that their wives 
raised any objection to their departure on a journey 

the annual report of the American Historical Society for 1894. 
Professor Bassett gives references to the earlier, and mostly par- 
tisan, literature on the subject. 



52 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

which, under the most favorable conditions, was 
certain to prove more or less perilous. They were 
true border women, at a moment's notice capable of 
"playing the man for their people." They relied 
impUcitly on their husbands' good judgment, and were 
ever ready to adopt any course of action that promised 
to mitigate the hardships of frontier existence. 

On the 1st of May, 1769 — a truly memorable 
May Day in the annals of American exploration — 
the start was made from the Yadkin.^ Each man 
was mounted on a good horse, and led a second horse 
equipped with that useful if rude contrivance, the 
pack-saddle. Each was well armed, and dressed 
in the regulation garb of the frontiersman — deer- 

^ It should be clearly understood that Boone was by no means 
the first white man to enter Kentucky. As has been said, Finley 
had visited it in 1752, and possibly again in 1767. And it was 
visited by white men long before Finley's day. There is even 
reason to believe that it was entered and partially explored as early 
as 1671 by a company of Virginians under Captain Thomas Batts. 
La Salle was another seventeenth-century visitor to Kentucky. A 
French expedition is reported to have been at Big Bone Lick in 
1735, and seven years afterwards two Virginians, John Howard 
and Peter Sailing, likewise anticipated Boone, as did Dr. Thomas 
Walker in 1748. It was Boone's distinction, however, to obtain a 
more thorough knowledge of the country than did any of his pred- 
ecessors, and to be the first man to turn that knowledge to prac- 
tical account. If not the first in point of time, he was the first 
explorer of Kentucky in the true meaning of the term. 



Boone's Explorations in Kentucky 53 

skin shirt and trousers, light cap and moccasins, 
and belt bristling with tomahawk, hunting-knife, 
powder-horn, and bullet-pouch. Picturesque, indeed, 
they must have looked, as they turned in their 
saddles, to wave a farewell, and then disappeared, 
one after another, at a bend in the road. 

Overhead, the sun beamed down upon them with 
the genial warmth of spring; beneath, babbling 
merrily away in a blossom-hidden gorge, a moun- 
tain brook cheerily wished them good luck; while 
all about them a companionable whispering came 
from the forest trees, fresh and lusty in their new 
garbs of green. As the travellers may well have told 
one another, it was a glorious morning for the com- 
mencement of a glorious enterprise. 

But much of gloom and rigor lay before them. 
Not many miles, and they were compelled to turn 
from the beaten road and follow winding, scarcely 
discernible Indian paths along the ridges and through 
the valleys of the North Carolina mountains. And 
soon history itself loses sight of them. Boone, in the 
curious "autobiography" which the first Kentucky 
historian, John Filson,^ wrote for him, simply says 

^ An interesting character in the annals of Kentucky and Ohio. 
He was one of the founders of Cincinnati, to which he gave the 
curious name of Losantiville. In 1788, while on a surveying ex- 
pedition, he was killed by Indians. His name is perpetuated in the 
celebrated "Filson Club," the Kentucky organization devoted to 



54 



Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 



that "after a long and fatiguing journey through a 
mountainous wilderness, in a westward direction," 
they found themselves on the Red River in Kentucky. 
From other sources it is gathered that their route lay 
across the Blue Ridge and Stone and Iron moun- 
tains, and through the valleys of the Holston and the 
Clinch into Powell's Valley, where they discovered 
Finley's promised trail through Cumberland Gap, 
and, following it, came at last into Kentucky. 

Once there, they quickly realized that it was all 
that Finley had painted it. "We found everywhere," 
Boone told Filson, "abundance of wild beasts of all 
sorts. The buffalo were more frequent than I have 
seen cattle in the settlements, browsing on the leaves 
of the cane, or cropping the herbage on these exten- 
sive plains, fearless, because ignorant of the violence 
of man. Sometimes we saw hundreds in a drove, and 
the numbers about the salt springs were amazing." 
And, according to Filson, he added in a rhapsody 
of enthusiasm : — 

" One day I undertook a tour through the country, 
and the diversity and beauties of nature I met with 
. . . expelled every gloomy and vexatious thought. 
Just at the close of day the gentle gales retired, and 
left the place to the disposal of a profound calm. 
Not a breeze shook the most tremulous leaf. I had 

research in the early history of that State, and to whose publica- 
tions all students of American history are greatly indebted. 



Boone's Explorations in Kentucky 55 

gained the summit of a commanding ridge, and, 
looking round with astonishing delight, beheld the 
ample plains, the beauteous tracts below. On the 
other hand I surveyed the famous river Ohio, that 
rolled in silent dignity, marking the western boun- 
dary of Kentucky w4th inconceivable grandeur. At 
a vast distance I beheld the mountains Hft their 
venerable brows, and penetrate the clouds." 

These, it is as well to point out, are Boone's words 
only as they have come down to us in the peculiar 
phraseology of Filson. But they depict accurately 
enough the profound impression made on the simple 
frontiersman and his companions by the magnificent 
scenery of Kentucky and the numerous evidences of 
its great natural wealth. Journeying leisurely along 
the so-called "Warriors' Path," — a rough highway 
opened up by Indian war-parties in their movements 
back and forth between the Ohio country and the 
villages of the South, — the explorers before the end 
of June established a permanent camp on a tribu- 
tary of the Kentucky River in what is now Estill 
^Jounty. Then, being practical men, and having a 
keen desire to profit as much as possible from their 
daring venture, they at once started hunting. 

Swiftly the days passed, and with each succeeding 
day their store of furs grew larger, so abundant and 
unwary was the game. The hunter's paradise of 
their dreams had, in truth, become a reality. But 



56 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

they were fated to learn that, as Finley had warned 
Boone when he first told him about Kentucky, it 
was not altogether without its evils. Indian " signs'' 
began to multiply, and more than mere "signs/' 

It was the custom of the adventurers to hunt 
singly or in couples, and as a general thing Boone and 
his brother-in-law, Stuart, paired together. One 
day they left camp as usual, intending to explore the 
country along the banks of the Kentucky. All went 
well until just before sunset when, as they were about 
to ascend a small hill, they found themselves sur- 
rounded by a band of Shawnees, who evidently had 
been watching them for some time from the shelter of 
a thick cane-brake. They were given no chance to 
defend themselves, but were seized, hurled to the 
ground, and pinioned securely. 

Among the Shawnees was one who could speak a 
little English, and by him the captives were presently 
informed that they must guide the Indians to their 
camp. In the hope, perhaps, that their comrades 
would effect a rescue they complied, but such was 
the cunning of the Shawnees that Finley and the rest 
were taken prisoners as Boone and Stuart had been, 
without striking a blow. Unable to resist, but pro- 
testing vigorously, they watched the Indians plunder 
the camp of everything it held — furs, provisions, 
horses, traps, rifles, and ammunition. They were 
told that they were trespassing on land which be- 



Boone's Explorations in Kentucky 57 

longed exclusively to the red men, and which the 
latter were determined to keep forever as their own; 
and they were warned that did they venture to set 
foot in it again, their Hves would pay the penalty. 
After which, to their infinite relief, they were released, 
given just enough food to carry them back to the 
settlements, and ordered to leave Kentucky at once. 

It was Finley's advice that they should take the 
hint, and make the best of their way over the moun- 
tains; and in this Cooley and Mooney and Holden 
concurred. But Boone and Stuart, infuriated at 
the idea of returning poorer than they had left home, 
bluntly refused to flee. They intended, they said, 
to make an effort to recover their property; and, 
after a cautious pursuit, they actually succeeded in 
entering the Shawnee camp and making away with 
four horses. Two days later, the Shawnees having 
given chase as soon as they missed the horses, Boone 
and his brother-in-law were captives once more. 

There was no talk now of releasing them. On the 
contrary they were given to understand that they 
would be taken to the Shawnee villages on the Scioto 
River, in the Ohio country, and there punished as 
their temerity and ingratitude deserved. But for 
the time being they were not treated unkindly, and 
Boone's active mind was soon revolving projects for 
escape. In his boyhood, as will be remembered, he 
had made a careful study of Indian characteristics, 



58 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and his experiences in the Tennessee mountains, 
during and after the Cherokee War, had rounded out 
his knowledge so completely that there were few so 
well equipped as he to outwit the wiliest of sav- 
ages. Bidding Stuart keep up his courage and do 
nothing to irritate the Shawnees, Boone strove 
earnestly to win their confidence. Soon, so artfully 
did he work upon them, their watchfulness relaxed, 
and the prisoners were granted an unusual degree of 
liberty. 

Thus seven days passed. On the night of the 
seventh day, having decided that the attempt at 
escape must be made before crossing the Ohio, Boone 
waited until he was sure that every Indian in camp 
had fallen asleep. Then, creeping along the ground 
so cautiously that not a twig snapped beneath him, 
he gently aroused Stuart, who, like the Shawnees, 
was slumbering soundly. Together, and keeping 
well out of the glow of the camp-fire, the two plucky 
backwoodsmen secured rifles, bullets, and powder, 
and, their moccasined feet making never a sound, 
vanished ghost-like into the darkness of the sur- 
rounding cane-brake. 

Meanwhile Finley, Cooley, Mooney, and Holden 
were homeward bound, convinced that Boone and 
Stuart had perished in their rash attempt. At the 
same time Squire Boone, in company with a hunter 
named Neely, whom he had accidentally encoun- 



Boone's Explorations in Kentucky 59 

tered while crossing the mountains, was hurrying 
westward along the Warriors' Path, bringing with 
him horses and supplies, as had been agreed. Not 
far from Cumberland Gap the two parties met, and 
Squire learned from Finley the news of the supposed 
death of Boone and Stuart. It was decided to return 
East without delay, and East all six would un- 
doubtedly have gone but for the sudden and wel- 
come arrival of the two fugitives, who staggered 
into camp one day, weary and famished and in 
tatters.^ 

Exhausted though he was, Boone's spirit remained 
unbroken. The glamour of the wilderness was full 
upon him, and moreover he had no desire of return- 
ing empty-handed after his year on the Kentucky. 
So soon as he learned of Squire Boone's presence 
with the new equipment, he declared his intention of 
hastening back to lay in another store of furs. To 
this. Squire, scarcely less adventurous than Daniel 
himself, gave a ready assent; and Neely, too, ex- 
pressed his cordial approval, as did Stuart. But 
Finley protested that, for the present, he had had 

^ In its essentials this account of Boone's first captivity follows 
the version given by Dr. Thwaites. It differs in important re- 
spects from that of earlier writers, but Dr. Thwaites had the advan- 
tage of being able to utilize the invaluable Draper collection of 
Boone manuscripts, preserved in the library of the Wisconsin State 
Historical Society, and for that reason his version is to be preferred. 



6o Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

enough of Kentucky — the Indians were aroused 
and angered, and might at any time fall upon them. 
This was the view of the others, who continued 
homeward with Finley, while the Boones, Stuart, 
and Neely were soon afterwards building a new camp 
not far from the scene of the recent adventure. 

It would have been well for one of them had he 
taken Finley's advice and abandoned an enterprise 
which had thus far proved most unprofitable. As 
before, Daniel Boone and Stuart hunted together, 
frequently separating during the day to meet at 
nightfall at some appointed rendezvous. One even- 
ing, shortly after their return to the Kentucky, Stuart 
failed to appear, and he was still missing at sunrise. 
Boone, greatly alarmed, began a search for him, and 
before night came upon the embers of a fire not more 
than a day old. 

But he could find no other trace of his brother-in- 
law, and Neely and Squire Boone were equally un- 
successful when they joined in the hunt. Reluc- 
tantly it was concluded that Stuart had either been 
killed by Indians, or had accidentally shot himself. 
He was too good a backwoodsman, as they were well 
aware, to lose his way. Five years afterwards, but 
not until then, the mystery of his disappearance was 
partially cleared when Boone, while on a hunting- 
trip in the same vicinity, discovered in a hollow syca- 
more tree a few human bones and a powder-horn 



Boone's Explorations in Kentucky 6i 

marked with Stuart's name. But he did not require 
this long-hidden evidence to convince him that Stuart 
had indeed perished — the first, as Roosevelt has 
put it in his "The Winning of the West," of the 
thousands of human beings with whose Hfe-blood 
Kentucky was bought. 

Soon afterwards Neely started home, satisfied 
with his share of the winter's hunting. This left 
the two Boones alone in the wilderness. Only a 
little later, and but one Boone remained in it — the 
indomitable Daniel. Their ammunition had become 
almost exhausted, and they had decided that Squire 
should go home with the horses, dispose of the furs 
they had already collected, and return with the 
means for further hunting. On the first of May, 
a year to a day since the departure from the Yadkin, 
Squire silently wrung his brother's hand, swung him- 
self into the saddle, and set off down the lonesome 
Warriors' Path. 

It has been charged that Daniel Boone, in thus 
electing to hold himself remote from kith and kin, 
and lead a solitary existence among the Kentucky 
cane-brakes, displayed a singular lack of human 
sympathy, and still more a callous disregard for the 
feelings of his wife and children. As a matter of 
fact, though not an emotional man he was devotedly 
attached to his family, and it was out of regard to 
their interests, as well as in accord with his character- 



62 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

istic fondness for the untrammelled life of the forest, 
that he permitted his brother to travel alone to the 
Yadkin. 

Both the Boones had been obliged to go into debt to 
equip themselves for the expedition; and the furs 
which Squire took v^ith him would only in part dis- 
charge their indebtedness. By remaining in Ken- 
tucky Daniel would save time and money in many 
ways. He could not, to be sure, do much hunting, 
for he would have to be careful of his ammunition 
until Squire returned; but he could keep things ship- 
shape at the camp, repair rifles, mend traps, and 
otherwise occupy himself to good purpose. 

Most important of all, he would have leisure to 
make extensive explorations during the best season 
for studying the topography and resources of Ken- 
tucky. If he had not done so before, Boone had by 
this time definitely determined to remove his family 
from North CaroKna to this glorious land of enchant- 
ment, where, as he phrased it, "a man might have 
elbow-room and breathing-space." It did not need 
a prophet to predict that before many years Ken- 
tucky, although as yet quite unoccupied, would be- 
come a seat of white settlement. As early as 1754, or 
the year of Washington's capitulation to the French, 
pioneer families had ventured across the Alleghanies 
and estabHshed homes on a river in northwestern 
Virginia. In the Southwest the limits of white 



Boone's Explorations in Kentucky 63 

habitation had been extended to Powell's Valley, in 
the shadow of the Cumberland Mountains. The 
conquest of the French, the growth of population, 
and the introduction, more especially in the Carolinas, 
of laws which, if not intrinsically unjust, were ren- 
dered so by the manner of their enforcement, had all 
combined to stimulate the trend westward. Boone 
had no desire to be a laggard in the rear of this move- 
ment. He preferred to be among its leaders. And 
accordingly, soon after his brother had left him, he 
gave himself seriously to the task of selecting a future 
home. 

At first, as he afterwards admitted, he felt unut- 
terably lonely — a circumstance which is itself strong 
evidence to the falsity of the charge that he was lack- 
ing in natural affection. "I confess," he told Filson, 
"I never before was under greater necessity of ex- 
ercising philosophy and fortitude. A few days I 
passed uncomfortably. The idea of a beloved wife 
and family, and their anxiety upon the account of 
my absence and exposed situation, made sensible 
impressions on my heart. A thousand dreadful 
apprehensions presented themselves to my view, 
and had undoubtedly disposed me to melancholy, 
if further indulged." But his strong will and the 
genial influence of the beautiful Kentucky May- 
time overcame all feehngs of depression. Every 
day presented some new attraction to him. Whether 



64 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

walking through the luxuriant wilds that have since 
been transformed into the famous Blue Grass region, 
tracing the course of some broad-flowing stream, or 
traversing the twilight depths of a primeval forest so 
thickly leaved that scarce a ray of sunlight filtered 
through, he found much to occupy his thoughts. 

Adventures he had in plenty and of a kind to in- 
crease his knowledge of woodcraft and of the Ind- 
ians with whom he was later to come so often into 
conflict. Shawnees, Cherokees, Chickasaws, and 
other tribesmen wandered near his path. Some- 
times he found indications that his camp had been 
visited during his absence, and on such occasions he 
slept for many nights afterwards in thicket or cane- 
brake, fearing lest an attempt might be made to sur- 
prise him. Once he encountered a band of savages 
and escaped from them only by leaping down a preci- 
pice into a river and swimming to the opposite bank. 
Frequently he sighted other bands, but always man- 
aged to elude them. At least one Indian fell a victim 
to his skill with the rifle, being shot down while fish- 
ing in the Kentucky. 

In his wanderings he travelled as far as the Falls 
of the Ohio, where he discovered, at the site of the 
future Louisville, a fur-trade stockade of which 
Finley had told him. And, no doubt, as he stood 
there, he thought of his old friend, hopefully antici- 
pating the day when they should again be hunting 



Boone's Explorations in Kentucky 65 

together in marvellous Kentucky. Perhaps he 
fancied that Finley might return with Squire, but 
when Squire did return, towards the end of July, he 
c'ame alone. ^ He had had an uneventful but most 
successful journey, had sold the furs at a substantial 
profit, and brought the good news that Daniel's wife 
and children were well. The rest of the summer 



^ So far as is known Boone and Finley never met after the latter's 
departure from Kentucky, as recorded above. In fact, with that 
departure Finley steps off the stage of authentic history. Dr. 
Thwaites says that after leaving Boone, he went to visit relatives 
in Pennsylvania, but what became of him afterwards is unknown. 
I believe, however, that I have possibly succeeded in tracing his 
subsequent movements to some extent. The records of Lord 
Dunmore's War in 1774 show that there was a John Finley who 
volunteered under Captain Evan Shelby from Watauga. This 
same John Finley took part in the Cherokee wars of 1776-80. 
And in 1808, when the town of Huntsburg, Ohio, was founded, the 
first settler, Stephen Pomeroy, found a trader and trapper named 
John Finley living in a hut on the bank of a creek now known as 
Finley Creek. This Finley told Pomeroy that he had been with 
Boone in Kentucky and had fought under Wayne. He enlisted in 
the War of 181 2, returned to Huntsburg after the war, but about 
18 18 left there, removing, it is thought, to Maryland. He was 
then a very old man. For this information I am indebted to Mr. 
W. W. King, of Huntsburg, a great-grandson of Stephen Pomeroy. 
Of course, there is in all this no positive identification, but it seems 
at least possible that the John Finley of Watauga, the John Finley 
of Huntsburg, and the John Finley of Boone's expedition were one 
and the same. 

F 



66 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and the early fall the brothers spent in hunting and 
exploring, this time moving in a southwesterly direc- 
tion into the country between the Green and Cum- 
berland rivers. Some time in October, Squire again 
went home, carrying with him many deerskins; but 
he was back in Kentucky before the end of the year, 
and there both he and Daniel remained until the 
following March. 

Then, having previously met and spent some 
weeks with a party of Virginia hunters who, it ap- 
peared, had been for six months and more in different 
parts of the country west of the Cumberland Moun- 
tains, the Boones finally broke camp for the return 
to the Yadkin. As on the outward journey, their 
route was by way of the Warriors' Path, Cumberland 
Gap, and Powell's Valley. And in PowelFs Valley, 
to their surprise and bitter disappointment, they 
were overtaken by the danger which they had so 
warily avoided in uncivilized Kentucky. 

Riding cheerily along, only a few miles from the 
westernmost settlements, they were captured by a 
war-party of Northern Indians returning from a raid 
against Cherokee and Catawba villages, were robbed 
of their hard-earned pelts and everything else they 
possessed, and were sent on their homeward way 
poorer than when the long hunt had first begun, two 
years before. 

The Indians could not, however, rob them of the 



Boone's Explorations in Kentucky 67 

knowledge gained concerning the fertile lands be- 
yond the mountains. Infuriated but not disheart- 
ened, mingling curses against all red men with fervid 
vows to return to Kentucky and make good their 
losses, the brothers hastened to the Yadkin, where, 
as may be imagined, they found the heartiest of 
welcomes. And there, for the moment, let us leave 
them, while we turn to make the acquaintance of the 
people who, stirred by the reports which they and 
other adventurers brought home, were soon to burst 
the mountain barrier and spread themselves through 
the groves and glades and prairies concealed from 
view by its craggy heights. 



CHAPTER V 

THE PEOPLE WHO FOLLOWED BOONE 

THE first settlement of the early West — by 
which is meant the settlement of Kentucky 
and Tennessee — was essentially the work of 
the frontier inhabitants of Virginia, North CaroHna, 
and South Carolina. It differed in important re- 
spects from the initial colonization of the country, 
and most of all in being carried through mainly by 
native-born Americans in whom the dominant racial 
strain was not English or Dutch or German, or any 
of the other nationalities which contributed so largely 
to the settlement of the seaboard colonies. It was 
none of these — it was Scotch. 

Yet here, again, a distinction has to be made. 
For the men who were to the fore in the movement 
across the mountains, and in the teeth of hardship, 
privation, and suffering won a foothold for civiHza- 
tion in the trans-Alleghany wilderness, were in most 
cases not of direct Scotch extraction. They were 
the descendants of Scottish people who, many years 
before, had moved from their native country to Ire- 
land, settling especially in North Ireland. Meeting 

68 



The People who followed Boone 69 

with persecution, they, or their children and grand- 
children, had in time migrated from Ireland to the 
New World, bringing with them a mixture of both 
Scotch and Irish traits — for which reason, to dis- 
tinguish them from people of pure Scotch or pure 
Irish ancestry, writers have called them Scotch- 
Irish. It is an awkward term, but it seems impos- 
sible to devise a better. 

They had representatives in America within a 
comparatively short time after the colonization of 
Virginia and Massachusetts, but it was not until the 
closing years of the seventeenth century and the open- 
ing of the eighteenth that Scotch-Irish immigration 
began in earnest. It flowed in, generally speaking, 
through two ports, Philadelphia and Charleston, 
and by 1730 had reached considerable proportions. 
In the one year 1729 nearly six thousand Scotch- 
Irish entered the port of Philadelphia, and every 
year for long thereafter saw a constant increase in 
their numbers. 

By choice and of necessity, for the lands along the 
coast were even then rather thickly settled, these 
late-comers moved inland, forming large if widely 
scattered communities in the "back counties'* of 
Pennsylvania and the Carolinas. Being a restless, 
enterprising, and aggressive folk, those who located 
in Pennsylvania got on none too well with the sedate 
Quakers and phlegmatic Germans who formed the 



70 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

bulk of the population in that colony, and in conse- 
quence they either built their cabins in outlying dis- 
tricts, or moved southward along the open table-land 
of the Valley of Virginia . As early as 1736 there were 
isolated Scotch-Irish famihes in the Valley, and as 
time passed a strong current of Scotch-Irish immigra- 
tion set in, journeying from Pennsylvania through 
the Valley of Virginia, and thence to the hills and 
meadows of the Piedmont section of North Carolina. 

Meanwhile, the Scotch-Irish who had come in by 
way of Charleston likewise moved inland, passing 
southward to the hill country of Georgia, or north- 
ward into the CaroHna uplands. In this way, not- 
withstanding the presence of Enghsh, German, 
French Huguenot, and other settlers, the Scotch- 
Irish element by 1750 was sufficiently numerous to 
give color and tone to the entire frontier as far north 
as Pennsylvania. The other colonies, too, had 
quotas of Scotch-Irish, as evidenced by the giving of 
such names as Londonderry, Dublin, and Antrim to 
New Hampshire towns; and Orange and Ulster to 
New York counties. But nowhere did the Scotch- 
Irish make their presence so strongly felt as on the 
borders of the CaroUnas and Virginia. 

There they were indeed the chief factor in develop- 
ing the institutional life of the country. Like their 
ancestors, the ancient Scotch Covenanters, who had 
suffered much for conscience' sake, they were a pro- 



The People who followed Boone 71 

foundly religious people, of the Presbyterian faith. 
They were also strong believers in the virtue of edu- 
cation, if only to enable their children to read the 
Bible for themselves. The schoolmaster was an 
early adjunct of a Scotch-Irish settlement; and when, 
for any reason, a schoolmaster was not to be had, 
the children were taught their letters at their mother's 
knee. It is true that as a rule their schooHng was of 
a primitive sort, confined to the rudiments of read- 
ing, writing, and arithmetic. But this was ample 
for the needs of the simple Hfe which the vast ma- 
jority of Scotch-Irish settlers led. 

Everything about them, in fact, was characterized 
by a rugged, outright simplicity. In an old and now 
almost forgotten book — Joseph Doddridge's "Notes 
on the Settlement and Indian Wars of the Western 
Parts of Virginia and Pennsylvania" — there is a 
crude but graphic picture of their customs and man- 
ners, drawn from life by one of themselves. "Most 
of the articles in common use," says Doddridge, 
"were of domestic manufacture. There might have 
been incidentally a few things brought to the country 
for sale in a primitive way, but there was no store for 
general supply. Utensils of metal, except offensive 
weapons, were extremely rare and almost entirely 
unknown. The table furniture usually consisted of 
wooden vessels, either turned or coopered. Iron 
forks, tin cups, etc., were articles of rare and deli- 



72 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

cate luxury. The food was of the most wholesome 
and primitive kind. The richest meat, the finest 
butter, and best meal that ever delighted man's palate, 
were here eaten with a relish which health and labor 
only know. The hospitality of the people was pro- 
fuse and proverbial. 

"The dress of the settlers was of primitive simplic- 
ity. The hunting-shirt was worn universally . . . and 
was usually made of Hnsey, sometimes of coarse 
linen, and a few of dressed deerskin. The bosom 
of this dress was sewed as a wallet, to hold a piece 
of bread, cakes, jerk, tow for wiping the barrel of 
the rifle, and any other necessary for the hunter or 
warrior. The belt, which was always tied behind, 
answered several purposes besides that of holding 
the dress together. In cold weather the mittens, 
and sometimes the bullet-bag, occupied the front 
part of it. To the right side was suspended the 
tomahawk, and to the left the scalping-knife in its 
leathern sheath. 

*'A pair of drawers, or breeches and leggins, were 
the dress of the thighs and legs, and a pair of moc- 
casins answered for the feet much better than shoes. 
These were made of dressed deerskin. They were 
generally made of a single piece, with a gathering 
seam along the top of the foot, and another from the 
bottom of the heel, without gathers, as high as the 
ankle joint. Flaps were left on each side to reach 



The People who followed Boone 73 

some distance up the leg. Hats were made of the 
native fur; the buffalo wool was frequently em- 
ployed in the manufacture of cloth, as was also the 
bark of the wild nettle." 

Reading this description, one can readily appre- 
ciate the stir of lively curiosity aroused in Philadelphia, 
Williamsburg, and Charleston whenever a back- 
country settler "came to town" from his home among 
the mountains. The women dressed as simply as 
the men; their garb a linsey gown, which they spun 
and dyed and fashioned themselves. For head- 
gear they wore huge sunbonnets, and on their feet 
moccasins like the men, or else went barefoot, as 
was largely their custom in the summer. 

In a word, the Scotch-Irish settler who took 
possession of the mountain frontier, and thence 
moved onward to the conquest of the early West, 
was conspicuously devoid of everything that made for 
ease and comfort. Remote from the older and more 
populous communities near the sea, he led his own 
Hfe, a hard, cheerless existence in many ways. To 
begin with, enough space had to be cleared in the 
untrodden forest for the building of the cabin home 
and the sowing of the first crop of corn. Until 
this was done, he and his wife and little ones perforce 
lived in the canvas-covered wagon, prototype of the 
prairie schooner of later times, which had carried 
them to the scene of their chosen habitation. And 



74 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

when the cabin was raised, with the willing help of 
neighboring pioneers, the struggle for a livelihood 
had only commenced. 

Week in and week out, for years together, the 
backwoodsman and his wife — no less brave than 
he, and gladly sharing his unending labors — toiled 
to extend their area of cultivation, increase their 
products, and win a few scant comforts for their 
later years. However poor, they were an ambitious 
folk, these backwoods people. They had not come 
into the wilderness to bury themselves, to stagnate, to 
take life shiftlessly. And thence it was that where 
all had once been savage waste, tenanted only by 
the wild beast or the wandering red man, there soon 
or late arose progressive settlements, each with its 
church and schoolhouse, its mill and forge. 

Cut off as he was from ready intercourse with the 
markets and manufactures of the tide-water country, 
every backwoodsman necessarily did much besides 
cultivate his farm. We have seen how Squire Boone 
and his son Daniel were weavers and blacksmiths 
as well as farmers. Among the settlers there were 
also carpenters, coopers, wheelwrights, wagon- 
makers, rope-makers, wine-makers, tailors, traders, 
surveyors, teachers. Every settler was of course 
a hunter, at all events in the days of the first con- 
quest of the wilds, since he was obliged to depend 
on game for his meat supply. This taught him 



The People who followed Boone 75 

to be expert with the rifle, and was excellent train- 
ing for the grim days when he had to use the rifle 
to withstand the Indian raider. It taught him, too, 
as every requirement of his laborious existence taught 
him, to be self-reliant, resourceful, ready to take 
long chances, and to yield to no obstacle however 
difficult or dangerous it seemed. 

Here we approach one of the most important 
phases of the influence exercised on the backwoods- 
man by the nature of his environment. Whether 
he was Scotch-Irish or English or German or French 
Huguenot, there was bred in him just those char- 
acteristics which make for an efficient democracy. 
His struggle with, and conquest of, the wilderness 
gave him a pronounced individualism; and at the 
same time his perpetual sense of isolation, and of 
dangers shared in common by his fellow-pioneers, 
increased his human sympathy, and invested the 
backwoods people as a whole with a keener feeling of 
solidarity than less exposed communities could boast. 

To put it otherwise, the backwoodsman was the 
typical "man in the state of nature," depicted by 
the political philosophers of the seventeenth and 
eighteenth centuries; and he vindicated those 
theorists who maintained that "man in the state of 
nature" would voluntarily and eff'ectively organize 
for mutual defence and for the preservation of his 
"natural rights." To the backwoodsman all men 



76 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

were free and equal, and should have due regard 
to the freedom and equality of their fellows. He 
further believed that the function of government 
was to insure universal freedom and equality, and 
that for this purpose no better form of government 
could be devised than a government by the people 
themselves. Hence the readiness with which, to 
give an illustration, the Scotch-Irish backwoods- 
men of both North and South Carolina formed 
"associations" in the time of the Regulation — just 
previous to the outbreak of the War for Independence 
— to correct what they viewed as intolerable inter- 
ference and injustice on the part of the colonial 
authorities. 

More impressive still is the example of the back- 
woodsmen who came together to form the Watauga 
Association, the first written constitution drawn up 
and adopted by any community west of the Alle- 
ghanies. The Watauga country lay in the eastern 
part of the present State of Tennessee, and com- 
prised the forest-clad valleys of the Clinch, the 
Holston, the Watauga, the Nolichucky, and those 
numerous other streams which eventually unite to 
form the Tennessee River. Until 1769 this region 
was without a single white inhabitant. In that year 
at least one borderer, William Bean, from Virginia, 
settled with his family on Boone's Creek, a tribu- 
tary of the Watauga; and it is believed that at 



I 



The People who followed Boone 77 

about the same time several other families came in 
from North Carolina. In any event, a steady, if 
at first insignificant, volume of immigration began 
in 1770, from Virginia and North and South Carolina.* 

By 1772 several little settlements, or stations as 
they were often called, had been established, their 
population including not a few who afterwards won 
lasting fame in the history of the early West. Chief 
among these were James Robertson and John 
Sevier, the former justly celebrated a& the "Father 
of Tennessee," the latter the renowned "Nolichucky 
Jack of the Border/' and the hero, according to his 
biographer, James R. Gilmore, of thirty-five battles, 
every one of which was a victory. Both were native- 
born American borderers, Robertson being of Scotch- 
Irish lineage and Sevier of Huguenot ancestry. 

The great majority of the Watauga settlers were 
Scotch-Irish, and were a plain, substantial, right- 
minded people. But, as has always been the case 
in border communities, there were some evil-doers 
among them — "refugees from justice, absconding 
debtors, and horse-thieves." Preying both on their 
fellow-whites and on the Cherokee Indians, whose 
villages stood to the south of the Watauga country, 
these scoundrels soon became a great menace to the 

^ Mainly, it would seem, from North Carolina, especially after 
the battle of Alamance, when Governor Tryon so signally defeated 
the Regulators. 



78 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

peace and progress of the settlements. They were 
literally beyond the pale of the law, for although 
Watauga was a part of North CaroHna the juris- 
diction of that colony had not been extended beyond 
the mountains, and consequently there were no courts 
or officers of justice to deal with those deserving 
punishment. 

The settlers themselves, however, were equal to 
the emergency, and this without resorting to *' lynch 
law." Robertson, Sevier, and a few others con- 
sulted together and decided that, pending the ex- 
tension of colonial authority, they would form a 
government of their own. A call was issued for 
a general convention, and early in the spring of 1772 
the settlers met at Robertson's house. The result 
of their deliberations was the holding of an election 
at which the people of the different stations chose 
an assembly of thirteen representatives. The 
thirteen, in their turn, met and elected five of their 
number as a committee, or court, clothed with full 
authority to administer the public business of the 
community. 

They were empowered — by "articles of associa- 
tion," the text of which has unfortunately been lost ^ 

^ Our knowledge of the Watauga Association is based chiefly on 
a petition addressed to the Provincial Council of North Carolina, 
by John Sevier, in the name of the inhabitants of Watauga. It is 
printed in J. G. M. Ramsey's "Annals of Tennessee." 




James Robertson 

The " Father of Tennessee ' 



The People who followed Boone 79 

— to settle all disputes, enforce law and order, 
appoint minor officers of justice, and also appoint 
the officers of the local militia to be organized in 
accordance with the articles of association. They 
were to meet at stated intervals as a regularly con- 
stituted tribunal, and in the performance of their 
duties were to follow as far as possible the laws of 
Virginia. This last provision was due to a mistaken 
belief of the Wataugans that their territory instead 
of being part of North Carolina was within the limits 
of Virginia. 

As thus constituted the government of Watauga 
would seem, on a surface view, to have been oli- 
garchic rather than democratic, government by a few 
rather than government by the people. But such 
was not actually the case, since the committee of 
five retained throughout their existence as an ex- 
ecutive-judicial body a keen appreciation of their 
status as representatives of the popular will. In 
1776, for example, we find Sevier stating in the 
petition addressed by him, in the name of the Wa- 
taugans, to the Provincial Council of North Caro- 
lina : — 

"Finding ourselves on the frontiers, and being 
apprehensive that, for the want of a proper legis- 
lature, we might become a shelter for such as en- 
deavored to defraud their creditors; considering 
also the necessity of recording deeds, wills, and doing 



8o Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

other public business, we, by consent of the people, 
formed a court for the purposes above mentioned, 
taking (by desire of our constituents) the Virginia 
laws for our guide, so near as the situation of affairs 
would admit. This was intended for ourselves, 
and was done by the consent of every individual." 

The government thus estabHshed endured for 
more than four years, or until North Carolina, in 
response to the petition just quoted, annexed Wa- 
tauga under the name of the District of Washington. 
It was, of course, a makeshift government, but it 
bore striking evidence to the intrinsic worth and 
good sense of its framers. And they, be it remem- 
bered, were not men trained for the exercise of 
legislative, executive, and judicial functions. They 
were not skilled in the formulation of codes, or versed 
in the intricacies of legal procedure. They were 
simply backwoodsmen — wielders of the axe and 
followers of the plough. Yet they displayed an 
inborn and wonderful capacity for self-government, 
and a singular ability in devising governmental 
methods and processes best fitted to meet their needs. 

Whence they derived this capacity and ability, it 
is impossible to say fully. But this much may be 
said — that they owed it in no small measure to the 
religion which the Scotch-Irish immigrant had 
brought with him from Ireland. Presbyterianism 
had become the creed of the border, and Presby- 



The People who followed Boone 8i 

terlanism, with its democratic principles of church 
polity, was emphatically a training school in political 
science for the humblest layman as well as the best 
educated clergyman. 

Here, then, is a foremost Scotch-Irish contribution 
to the foundation-building of the West; and, for 
the matter of that, to the growth of the American 
governmental system as we know it to-day. If for 
this alone, the Scotch-Irishman of the border back- 
woods should always be held in honorable remem- 
brance. 

Not that he was without his faults. Progressive 
and thrifty, his thrift sometimes developed into an 
unpleasant penuriousness. As one of his eulogists 
has wittily remarked, he kept the Sabbath and all 
else that he could lay his hands on. To a ready ap- 
preciation of his political rights he added an almost 
abnormal tendency to insist on his personal rights. 
He was over-ready to take offence, and when ag- 
grieved, fought like a wildcat. Many repulsive 
pictures of border fights have been preserved, with 
their eye-gouging and nose-biting, their rough-and- 
tumble wrestling and kicking. Moreover, the 
Scotch-Irish backwoodsman's proneness to quarrel 
and fight was intensified by his love of strong drink. 
A writer who has made a special study of the Scotch- 
Irish in colonial North Carolina says that nearly 
every farm of any size had a distillery attached, and 



82 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

that much of the corn grown was marketed in liquid 
form. He adds : — 

**A punch bowl and glasses were found among 
the effects of the Rev. Alexander Craighead, founder 
of the earliest churches of the Mecklenburg region. 
Whiskey played a great part on funeral occasions, 
and especially at * vendues,' when it was supposed 
to put the buyers in good humor and was charged 
to the estate disposed of. The tavern on the public 
road was a famous institution of these early days, 
and the variety of the liquors sold reminds one of 
the EngHsh inns that Dickens has portrayed.''^ 

Still, for all his defects, the Scotch-Irish back- 
woodsman compels warm admiration. His virtues 
far outweighed his vices. And it needed a stalwart, 
rugged, restless, persevering, and fighting people to 
conquer the wilderness and the savage, and win the 
West for civilization. If the Scotch-Irish took with 
them across the mountains their quick temper and 
the whiskey bottle, they also took the Bible and 
the spelling-book, an unquenchable devotion to 
Hberty, splendid courage, and soundly democratic 
institutions. In the War for Independence they 
played a noble part, and from that day to the present 
their descendants have been found zealous in the 
service of the nation. Scotch-Irish blood has coursed 

1 Rev. A. J. McKelway's "The Scotch-Irish of North Carolina," 
in The North Carolina Booklet, vol. IV. 



i 



The People who followed Boone 83 

in the veins of many a President of the United States, 
and of a long hne of Cabinet officers, Supreme Court 
Justices, Senators, Representatives, and State Gov- 
ernors and Legislators. Great, in truth, is the 
debt which America owes to the Scotch-Irish of the 
border. 



CHAPTER VI 

WESTWARD ho! 

WHEN Daniel Boone returned to the Yadkin 
in the spring of 1771, he fully expected to 
remove his family to Kentucky within a very 
short time. But circumstances, the exact nature of 
which does not appear from the surviving records, 
so retarded his plans that more than two years passed 
before he was able to make a start. In all probability 
the chief cause of delay was the War of the Regu- 
lation, for, after the battle of Alamance, — which 
was fought May 16, 1771, — many Regulators 
abandoned their homes and fled, as already stated, 
to the Watauga country. This made land cheap in 
many parts of Piedmont North Carolina, and ren- 
dered it difficult for Boone to sell his farm, as he 
was obliged to do in order to equip himself for the 
journey. 

In the interval he paid at least two visits to Ken- 
tucky, and there is reason to believe that on the 
second of these he definitely selected the site of his 
future home. From both visits he returned more 
enthusiastic than ever with respect to the possibilities 

84 



Westward Ho! 85 

of the country beyond the mountains, and so loudly 
and persistently did he sing its praises that a number 
of his neighbors, and even distant settlers, became 
fired with the desire of seeing it for themselves. 
Thus it happened that when his preparations were 
at last complete, and he bade farewell to the Yadkin 
Valley, Sept. 25, 1773, he found himself at the head 
of a fairly arge caravan, which was to be consider- 
ably augmented en route by immigrants from the 
Valley of Virginia and Powell's Valley. 

It speaks volumes for the courage and hardihood 
of Rebecca Boone and other women in the party 
that they unhesitatingly embarked on the long 
pilgrimage. Little danger was apprehended from 
the Indians, as the various tribes had been com- 
paratively quiet since Pontiac's futile uprising of 
1763-65 and the subsequent treaties explicitly rec- 
ognizing the territorial rights of the natives. But 
in every other respect the journey was certain to 
prove arduous in the extreme. For the greater 
part it would have to be made by narrow and brier- 
choked trails, often precipitous and involving diffi- 
cult ascents and descents of the successive ridges. 
This meant that only the absolute necessaries for 
existence could be transported, and that the women 
and children as well as the men would have to travel 
on horseback or afoot. Instead of sleeping com- 
fortably of nights in the familiar canvas-covered 



86 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

wagon, they would be obliged to camp in the open 
wilderness, sheltered at most by tent-cloth or bed- 
coverings stretched between upright poles. Their 
food would be meagre, unless the hunting proved 
good; and did the weather turn stormy, the hard- 
ships of the journey would be increased a thousand- 
fold.^ 

Yet the emigrants, men and women alike, faced 
the prospect with buoyant hopefulness. Leading 
their pack-horses, and driving a few cattle ahead of 
them, they journeyed cheerfully westward, their 
immediate destination being PowelFs Valley, where 
they were to await the home-seekers from that sec- 
tion and from the more northerly Valley of Virginia. 
Five families accompanied the Boones, and if every 
family was as large as Daniel's, the caravan must 
have been of really imposing dimensions. For, 
besides James and Israel, the two children whose 
births have already been noticed, Daniel and Rebecca 
had by that time been blessed with six sons and 
daughters, including Susannah, then thirteen years 

* In another volume, "Woman in the Making of America," I 
enter in more detail into this phase of the territorial expansion of 
the United States. It seems to me that the notable part played 
by women in the growth of the nation has not been sufficiently 
recognized, and the book to which I refer endeavors in some part 
to make clear just what the United States of to-day owes to its heroic 
women of the past. 



Westward Ho! 87 

old; Jemima, eleven; Lavinia, seven; Rebecca, 
five; Daniel Morgan, four; and John, a mere infant 
in arms. 

Until Powell's Valley was reached the journey 
was without incident. There was no thought that 
deadly danger lurked ahead — that, in fact, the 
travellers were now about to undergo an experience 
so tragic as to postpone for many months the settle- 
ment of Kentucky. Boone, as had been arranged, 
went into camp, pending the arrival of the expected 
additions to his party. At the same time he ordered 
his son James to ride across country with two other 
men for the purpose of obtaining extra supplies from 
a CHnch River settler named Russell. It was not 
many miles to Russell's place, and the supposition 
was that the trip there and back could be made 
between sunrise and sunset. 

However, while returning in company with several 
Clinch River people who had volunteered their assist- 
ance in carrying the supplies, Boone's messengers 
lost the trail when within three miles of the encamp- 
ment, and were obliged to pass the night in the for- 
est. It so happened that their supper-fire attracted 
the attention of a band of Shawnees, homeward 
bound after a hunt or a raid against the Cherokee 
villages on the Little Tennessee. The tempta- 
tion to secure some scalps was too strong to be re- 
sisted. Surrounding the unsuspecting sleepers the 



88 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Indians waited until dawn, and then made their 
attack, with rifle and tomahawk. Resistance was 
impossible, so sudden was the onslaught, and no 
quarter was given. Even as they sprang to their 
feet, half-dazed and groping for their fire-arms, 
the doomed victims sank back, pierced with bullets 
or brained by a war-hatchet. Only two, a Clinch 
River settler and a negro slave belonging to Russell, 
escaped the carnage. The rest, seven in all, and 
James Boone among them, were left weltering in 
their blood. 

The grief of Daniel and Rebecca Boone over the 
loss of their first-born, who had grown into a stalwart, 
intelligent, most attractive youth of seventeen, may 
be better imagined than described. Leaving the 
weeping mother to the kindly ministrations of the 
other women in the party, Daniel, grim and silent, 
rode forward to the scene of the massacre, guided by 
the two survivors. He had long been familiar with 
Indian warfare; had, as we know, been himself 
an Indian captive, but this was the first time that 
the actuality of the Indian menace had been brought 
directly home to him. Hitherto he had taken Ind- 
ian hostility to the white man as a matter of course 
and had reckoned with it in an impersonal way. 
Henceforward he could not but feel, as felt hundreds 
of borderers whose loved ones had fallen beneath the 
red man's hand, that every Indian was the incarna- 



Westward Ho 89 

tion of all that was devilish, treacherous, and malig- 
nant, and should be treated accordingly. 

It is easy for us who have never known the horrors 
of the ambuscade, the raid, and the torturing at the 
stake to condemn the spirit of unreasoning revenge 
with which the frontiersmen were too often swayed 
in their dealings with savages. But let us in imagina- 
tion put ourselves in their place — let us stand, as 
Boone stood that chill October morning, gazing at the 
mangled remains of a beloved son — and we shall 
be far more likely to sympathize than to condemn.^ 

A few words of prayer, and the bodies of young 
Boone and his companions were tenderly consigned 
to their last resting-place. Then the men from the 
Yadkin returned to camp to deliberate as to their 
future course. By this time their fellow-immigrants 
from the Valley of Virginia and Powell's Valley had 
arrived, forty strong, and it was Boone's opinion 
that they could safely proceed. But the others 
demurred. To them it seemed probable that the 
Shawnee attack was the precursor of a general 
Indian uprising, and they held it madness to cut 
themselves off from all relief and run the risk of 
annihilation. Let us, they argued in substance, 
await developments; and in the spring, if peace 

* The reader who would obtain a clear insight into the borderer's 
point of view is recommended to consult the opening sketch — 
**The Pioneer" — in James Hall's "Tales of the Border." 



90 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

remain unbroken, we can complete the journey. 
In vain Boone, who had staked his all on the Ken- 
tucky venture, pleaded and expostulated with them. 
They were obdurate, and, as the sequel proved, were 
wisely obdurate. 

From the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico un- 
rest and suspicion were once more taking possession 
of the Indian peoples, as a result of the increasing 
evidences of the intention of the English colonists 
to enter in and occupy the rich Mississippi Valley. 
This was what the old friends of the Indians, the 
French, had predicted would come to pass; and it 
was to check the borderers' westward tendency that 
Pontiac had organized his great conspiracy. Fol- 
lowing Pontiac's conspiracy, it is true, the Indians 
themselves had promoted the westward movement 
when, in 1768, the chieftains of the powerful Iroquois 
Confederacy, by the Treaty of Fort Stanwix, ceded 
to the English all of their claims to land south of 
the Ohio as far as the Tennessee. Possibly they 
imagined that the King's Proclamation of 1763, for- 
bidding English settlement beyond a certain distance 
from the sea,^ would operate to preserve this region 

^ The exact purpose of the Proclamation of 1763 has been a 
subject of Hvely controversy among historians. Until quite re- 
cently, it was commonly represented as being intended to restrain 
the colonists from passing beyond the political and economic control 
of England, and was accounted a coercive measure constituting one 



Westward Ho! 91 

from white occupation. If they so imagined, they 
were speedily undeceived. 

Not only did hunters like Boone range through it, 
but prospective settlers and land-speculators, regard- 
less of the King's Proclamation, began to stake out 
claims. Still further complicating the situation was 
the fact that many tribes denied the validity of the 
Iroquois cession, and asserted what Finley had told 
Boone when they first met in Braddock's campaign 
— namely, that the country between the Ohio and 
the Tennessee was a no-man's land, open to all the 
tribes for hunting purposes. Irritated and alarmed, 
the Shawnees, Delawares, Cherokees, and other West- 
ern and Southwestern Indians needed only a slight 
excuse to harry the frontier. 

Ample provocation was found in the wanton mur- 
der by border ruffians of the entire family of the 
Mingo chieftain, Logan, an Indian of really ad- 
mirable characteristics and long a friend to the 
white man. As in the days of Pontiac, the war-belt 

of the grievances which led to the Revolution. But modern research 
indicates that it was in reality designed to maintain peace between 
the colonists and the Indians, by guaranteeing to the latter that 
they should not, for a time at any rate, be disturbed in their pos- 
session of the Western lands. It was thus a wise and salutary, 
rather than a consciously repressive, measure. For an informative 
discussion of this subject see G. H. Alden's "New Governments 
West of the AUeghanies before 1780." 



92 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and the blood-stained hatchet were hurried from 
tribe to tribe, and soon a number of simultaneous 
raids on widely separated settlements gave notice 
that many chieftains had taken up Logan's cause, 
and that another struggle between the red man and 
the white was inevitable. 

It was evident, too, that the Virginia frontier was 
destined to suflFer most severely, and the governor of 
Virginia, the energetic and forceful Lord Dunmore, 
at once issued orders for the raising of troops to crush 
the uprising in its inception by carrying the war into 
the enemy's country. And, with a consideration 
not always found in colonial governors, Dunmore 
also ordered that messengers be sent to warn several 
surveying parties known to be at work in the wilds 
of Kentucky. 

At first it was thought that word might best be sent 
to them by way of Fort Pitt (the former Fort Du- 
quesne, which Braddock had in vain attempted to 
capture) and down the Ohio River to the Falls of 
the Ohio. But it was discovered that the Shawnees 
had established so close a blockade that navigation 
of the Ohio was impossible. Instructions were then 
hurried to Watauga, directing the employment of 
"two good woodsmen" to proceed into Kentucky 
by the Cumberland Gap route. Obviously this was 
a mission that called not alone for courage and 
endurance but for a thorough knowledge of the 



Westward Ho ! 93 

country, and the authorities at once thought of 
Boone, who was recognized by them as knowing 
more about Kentucky than any other man in all the 
colonies. 

Ever since the failure of his home-seeking ex- 
pedition, Boone had been living in a deserted cabin 
on the Clinch, where he had found the greatest 
difficulty in supporting his family. He did not need 
a second invitation to accept this opportunity of 
securing some sorely needed money. Taking with 
him an experienced hunter, Michael Stoner, he 
started for the Gap about the end of June, 1774, 
and within ten days was in the heart of Kentucky. 
On or before July 8 he made the discovery that the 
Shawnee attack of the previous year had robbed him 
of the honor of planting the first Kentucky settle- 
ment, for he found thirty-five men, under the leader- 
ship of James Harrod, engaged in laying out a town 
in the section subsequently included in Mercer 
County.^ Warning them of the danger to which 

* The present town of Harrodsburg, known in earlier times as 
Harrodstown and Oldtown. Lewis Collins, in his "History of 
Kentucky," dates the beginning of this first Kentucky settlement 
about the middle of June, 1774. But, as Harrod and his com- 
panions, in consequence of Boone's warning, and of an attack by 
Indians, left Kentucky shortly after Boone's visit to them and did 
not return until the following spring, Harrodsburg was perma- 
nently settled less than a month before Boone founded the historic 



94 



Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 



they were exposed, Boone and Stoner continued 
overland to the Falls of the Ohio, hunting out and 
notifying the surveying parties for whose safety 
Dunmore had been so commendably concerned. 
After a brief rest at the Falls, the homeward jour- 
ney was begun, and exactly two months after they 
had left the Clinch Valley the plucky adventurers 
were once more with their relatives and neighbors, 
having in the interval completed a tour of many 
hundreds of miles through a practically unbroken 
wilderness. 

Nor did Boone return worn out by this strenuous 

settlement at Boonesborough. James Harrod in many ways 
closely resembled Boone, and became one of the most picturesque 
characters in early Kentucky. Collins, following Morehead, thus 
describes him : " Possessing qualities of a high and generous nature 
— tall, erect, and commanding in his personal appearance — 
bold, resolute, active, and energetic — inured to the life of a back- 
woodsman, familiar with its dangers, and capable of supporting its 
hardships — he was singularly adapted to the position that he was 
to occupy. His open, manly countenance — his mild and conciliat- 
ing manners — all conspired to render him the idol of his associ- 
ates. Expert in the use of the rifle, he was a successful hunter, 
and a skilful and dangerous antagonist of the Indian. ... If he 
received information that a party of hunters had been surprised by 
the savages, 'let us go out and beat the red rascals,' was his instan- 
taneous order; and the command and its execution were synony- 
mous with him. . . . Of a restless and active temperament, the dull 
routine of life in a station was unsuited to him. He loved, like 
Boone, the free and unrestrained occupation of a hunter." 



Westward Ho ! 95 

feat. Hearing that Sevier, Robertson, and other 
Wataugans were marching to join the army that 
Lord Dunmore had raised, he started after them 
with a number of volunteers from the Clinch and 
Powell's Valley. But he was met by orders to assist 
in the defence of the southwestern border, which had 
been weakened by the departure of the Wataugans. 
For this reason, and only for this reason, he failed 
to participate in the great battle of Point Pleasant, 
Oct. 10, 1774, when the allied Indians, led by the 
famous Cornstalk, suffered overwhelming defeat 
after an all-day struggle, described by some as the 
most fiercely contested battle ever fought between 
the Indian and the white. But he none the less con- 
trived to enhance his reputation as an Indian- 
fighter by the bravery with which he repelled raid 
after raid against the settlements about the Clinch. 
"Mr. Boone,'' the commanding officer of the 
district reported, "is very diligent at Castle's Woods, 
and keeps up good order." Dr. Thwaites, who 
examined with the utmost care the correspondence 
relating to Lord Dunmore's War, found that it con- 
tained numerous compHmentary allusions to Boone. 
All of which, of course, redounded to his advantage. 
His fame spread even to the tide-water settlements; 
in the comfortable town house, as in the bleak log- 
cabin, tales of his exploits were recited, usually with 
ultrasensational elaborations; and by the time the 



96 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

war was at an end, there were few men of the border 
so well known as he. 

Among those who heard of him was a certain 
Richard Henderson, of North Carolina, a man of 
very different type from the borderers. Born in 
Virginia, he removed to North Carolina when a boy 
of ten, making his home in Granville County, where 
his father gained appointment to the unpopular but 
remunerative post of sheriff. Young Henderson 
himself, when old enough, became a constable, 
and afterwards under-sheriff, and in this way ob- 
tained more or less insight into the aims and methods 
of the office-holding oHgarchy, or "ring,'* that then 
dominated county government in western North 
Carolina. 

What he saw seems to have aroused in him a 
strong desire not so much to correct the manifold 
abuses, which in time led to the Regulation Move- 
ment, as to turn them to his own advantage. Under 
existing conditions, as he clearly perceived, no class 
of men had better opportunities for "getting on in the 
world'' than did lawyers. He improved a somewhat 
neglected education, procured a few law-books, 
and after twelve months of diligent study was ad- 
mitted to the bar. Thereafter he made rapid prog- 
ress, built up a profitable practice, and in 1768, 
at the age of thirty-five, was appointed a justice of 
the North Carolina Superior Court. 



Westward Ho! 



97 



It was about this time that the Regulation troubles 
became acute, and before long Judge Henderson 
came into collision with the Regulators. In the fall 
of 1770, while hearing cases at Hillsborough, his 
court-room was invaded by a mob, some minor 
officials were beaten, and Henderson himself was 
so terrorized that during the night he mounted a 
fast horse and galloped out of town. A month or 
so later his house, barn, and stables were burned. 

After such treatment he naturally would have less 
sympathy than ever for the grievances and aspira- 
tions of the frontier people from whose ranks the 
Regulators had been recruited. He had this much 
in common with them, however, that he was bold, 
enterprising, and profoundly interested in the open- 
ing up of the West. But his was the interest of a 
speculator, not of a home-seeker, and it was coupled 
with a high-soaring and extraordinary ambition; 
for he dreamed of nothing less than emulating the 
achievements of Lord Baltimore, William Penn, 
and other colonial founders of earlier times. He 
would establish in faraway Kentucky a proprietary 
colony whose inhabitants should look up to him as 
their overlord, and from him take title to their lands. 

The mere fact that Richard Henderson could 
conceive such a scheme marks him out as a man 
of superlative self-confidence. But it was by no 
means a scheme altogether to his credit. He knew 



98 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

perfectly well that Kentucky was a part of Virginia, 
and that it also came within the provisions of the 
King's Proclamation of 1763. Nevertheless, he 
steadily if quietly went ahead with his plans. It 
was his idea to purchase Kentucky from the Cherokees 
who, he asserted, were its rightful owners; and in 
order to obtain funds for this purpose he formed a 
company which he called the Transylvania Com- 
pany, in accordance with the name he intended 
giving his colony. John WilHams, Leonard Bullock, 
James Hogg, Nathaniel Hart, David Hart, Thomas 
Hart, John Luttrell, and William Johnston, all of 
them North Carolinians, were the men whom he 
prevailed upon to venture money in his risky under- 
taking. 

This necessary preliminary completed, he visited 
the Watauga country and sought out Boone,^ who, 

* It has often been stated that Boone acted as Henderson's 
agent long before this occasion; and that, in fact, it was as an 
employee of Henderson that he undertook his exploration of Ken- 
tucky in 1769. But I have been unable to discover any satisfac- 
tory evidence that Henderson even knew Boone until some time 
after the latter's return from Kentucky in 1 77 1 . Moreover, the claim 
has been recently made to me, by Professor Archibald Henderson, 
of the University of North Carolina, a descendant of Judge Hen- 
derson, that in developing his Transylvania project and purchas- 
ing Kentucky from the Cherokees, he acted under the advice of an 
eminent English jurist "in the closest confidence of the King,'* 
and that he therefore regarded his enterprise as having the royal 



Westward Ho ! 99 

when the nature of the project was explained to him, 
readily agreed to guide Henderson to the Cherokee 
towns on the Little Tennessee. The Cherokees, 
for their part, enthusiastically approved Henderson's 
designs. They would willingly relinquish their 
Kentucky claims, as also their pretensions to a strip 
of land giving access to Kentucky, provided only 
that the compensation were satisfactory. Early 
in 1775, accordingly, the tribesmen gathered at the 
Sycamore Shoals, on the Watauga, and by treaty 
ceded to the Transylvania Company — for a con- 
sideration variously stated to have been two thousand 
pounds in lawful money of Great Britain, ten 
thousand pounds worth of merchandise, and but 
"ten wagons loaded with cheap goods, some fire- 
arms, and spirituous liquors" — their shadowy claims 
to all the country between the Kentucky and the 
Cumberland. 

To no purpose did the governor of Virginia and 
the governor of North Carolina unite in denouncing 

sanction. This view of the case, I understand, Professor Hender- 
son will soon set forth in a biography of Richard Henderson. 
That, whatever his motives, Judge Henderson played an important 
part in promoting the early westward movement is beyond ques- 
tion, and for this he is deserving of full credit. Without his back- 
ing Boone would not have been able to open up his famous path- 
way to the West, — the Wilderness Road, — and had it not been for 
Henderson and the Transylvania Company, the settlement of Ken- 
tucky would hav2 been of far less rapid growth than it actually was. 



100 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Henderson and his associates as an "infamous com- 
pany of land pirates." At a safe distance from these 
wrathful functionaries, and secure in the knowledge 
that both governors would be too busily occupied 
in coping with the rising spirit of independence to 
follow up their threats, Henderson calmly continued 
his preparations. 

And, as a first and all-important measure, he en- 
gaged Daniel Boone to cleave a road through the 
wilderness, and select a seat of government for the 
proposed colony. 



J 



CHAPTER VII 

THE BUILDING OF THE WILDERNESS ROAD 

WHEN Daniel Boone undertook to open up 
a road between the border settlements and 
the interior of Kentucky, it was impossible 
for him to foresee the important place this rugged 
highway was to hold in the history of the territorial 
expansion of the American people, and the fame that 
would consequently accrue to him as its builder. 
He could have had no idea that within a few years 
it would be sought out and followed by a continuous 
stream of humanity, of thousands of men and women 
— aye, and little children — hurrying westward to 
lay the foundations of powerful, progressive common- 
wealths; and that these westward-hurrying people 
would cross the mountains not as British subjects, 
but as the sons and daughters of a free and indepen- 
dent republic whose limits and influence it was to 
be their part to extend. Nothing of this could 
Boone know, as he returned with Henderson from 
the treaty-making at the Sycamore Shoals. But he 
could and did perceive plainly that after five years 
of futile effort the time had come for the realiza- 



102 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

tion of his fondest hopes, and with good-will he 
set about the task of recruiting a party of road- 
makers. 

So liberal were the terms offered to settlers by the 
Transylvania Company that he found Httle diffi- 
culty in securing volunteers. Squire Boone was one 
who agreed to accompany him, and another was his 
companion on the Dunmore mission, Michael 
Stoner. There were others to enlist under him who 
afterwards attained more or less distinction in 
Kentucky history — men like Richard Callaway, 
WilHam Bush, David Gass, and Felix Walker. All to- 
gether, a company of "thirty guns" was organized, 
almost every man of whom was a trained woodsman 
and Indian fighter. 

It was intended by Henderson and his partners 
that the road should begin within easy access of the 
principal route of travel through the Valley of Vir- 
ginia, and to carry out this plan the party rendez- 
voused at Long Island, in the Upper Holston, just 
south of the present line between Virginia and Ten- 
nessee. According to an autobiographical state- 
ment left by Felix Walker, and almost our only 
source of information as to the events of the 
journey, the road-builders before starting explicitly 
agreed to put themselves "under the management 
and control of Colonel Boone, who was to be our 
pilot and conductor through the wilderness to the 



The Building of the Wilderness Road 103 

promised land." After which the making of the 
Wilderness Road began, March 10, 1775. 

From the Holston, Boone struck out for Cumber- 
land Gap, following as direct a line as possible by 
way of CHnch River and Powell's River, both of 
which were crossed without difficulty. Indeed, 
as far as the Gap, and for some miles beyond it, 
Boone's chief task consisted in skilfully directing 
the path so as to avoid abrupt descents or arduous 
climbs, though this was far from being entirely 
possible, owing to the mountainous nature of the 
country. Aside from this, all that he deemed it 
necessary to do was to indicate the way by blazing 
trees, and to cut down the undergrowth so that it 
could not spread during the summer and choke the 
trail. 

Thus, from the standpoint of the hardy back- 
woodsman accustomed to tasks from which others 
would shrink, there was little to test the mettle of 
the road-builders until after they forded Rockcastle 
River in southeastern Kentucky. Nor, up to that 
point, had they experienced anything more ad- 
venturous than a bear-hunt. But from the time they 
crossed the Rockcastle, both difficulties and ad- 
ventures began to multiply. To reach their destina- 
tion — an open expanse in the heart of the future 
Blue Grass country, near the juncture of the Ken- 
tucky River and Otter Creek, and chosen by Boone 



104 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

years before as an ideal spot for settlement — they 
were obliged to turn northward from the Rock- 
castle,^ and at once plunged into a region of dead 
brushwood, through which not even the buffalo 
had penetrated. 

Every foot of the advance, for the next twenty 
miles, had to be won by the most painful effort; 
and, after chopping and burning their way through 
the brush, the road-makers entered a scarcely 
less difficult cane-brake country, where the hatchet 
again found constant employment. Still they coura- 
geously persevered, slowly but steadily pressing 
forward, until the welcome moment when, in the 
language of FeHx Walker : — 

"We began to discover the pleasing and rapturous 
appearance of the plains of Kentucky. A new sky 
and strange earth seemed to be presented to our view. 
So rich a soil we had never seen before — covered 
with clover in full bloom. The woods were abound- 

^ Had they continued in a westerly direction they could have 
followed an Indian trail to the Falls of the Ohio. It was this trail 
which Benjamin Logan took not long afterwards, and by so doing 
gave his name to another and most important branch of the Wilder- 
ness Road. It ultimately became the main-travelled road for those 
entering Kentucky by way of the Ohio, and for those wishing to 
traverse Kentucky and go still farther north. The importance of 
Boone's Branch lay in the access it gave to the Blue Grass region. 
Both branches, however, are associated with Boone's memory, and 
deservedly. 



The Building of the Wilderness Road 105 

ing with wild game — turkeys so numerous that it 
might be said they appeared but one flock, uni- 
versally scattered in the woods. It appeared that 
nature, in the profusion of her bounty, had spread 
a feast for all that lived, both for the animal and 
rational world. A sight so delightful to our view 
and so grateful to our feelings almost inclined us 
in transport to kiss the soil of Kentucky — in imi- 
tation of Columbus, as he hailed and saluted the 
sand on his first setting foot on the shores of America." 
Their troubles and labors forgotten, Boone and 
his comrades hastened forward, eager to begin the 
settlement at Otter Creek, and confident that nothing 
would occur to delay them. But they were sadly 
mistaken. On the night of March 24, while en- 
camped near Silver Creek, in the present Madison 
County, and not more than fifteen miles from their 
goal, they were surrounded by an Indian war-party. 
It had not seemed necessary to Boone to post sentinels, 
as he had every reason to beheve that there would be 
no danger from the Indians. By the Treaty of 
Fort Stanwix, as was said, the Six Nation Indians 
had abandoned their claims to Kentucky; by the 
treaty ending Lord Dunmore's War the Shawnees 
and other Northwestern tribes had taken similar 
action; and the friendship of the Cherokees had been 
secured, for the time being, by the Treaty of the 
Sycamore Shoals. It was not in Indian nature, 



io6 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

however, to permit the unopposed advance of the 
white man, or forego an opportunity to avenge the 
defeat at Point Pleasant, and consequently the sav- 
ages who chanced upon Boone's camp in Kentucky 
resolved, if possible, to annihilate his company. 

Just before sunrise, after a night of patient wait- 
ing, they silently took position behind the trees about 
the camp. Not an inkling of their presence did the 
road-makers obtain, until aroused from sleep by 
a chorus of ear-splitting yells and a volley of mus- 
ketry. Luckily for them, the Indians aimed too 
high, and the loss of life was small. One man was 
killed instantly, another was wounded so badly 
that he died three days later, and a third, no other 
than Felix Walker, was severely but not fatally 
wounded. This was the extent of the casualties, 
and while several of the whites, under the impression 
that they were greatly outnumbered and that re- 
sistance would be useless, fled back along the road 
they had so laboriously carved out, the rest, under 
the leadership of Boone, raUied and put the Indians 
to flight. 

Fearing that the attack was part of a precon- 
certed plan to prevent the occupation of Kentucky, 
and that the assailants would soon return with reen- 
forcements, Boone at once ordered his men to begin 
work on a fort, and before nightfall they were securely 
protected by a stout stockade, square in form, and 



The Building of the Wilderness Road 107 

built of logs six or seven feet high, with but one nar- 
row opening. That day and the next passed without 
incident, but on the third day the alarm was given 
that a man had been sighted skulking through the 
woods. 

Finger on trigger, the road-builders awaited the 
expected attack, only to discover, to their great relief, 
that the man who had so startled them was not an 
Indian but one of the fugitives from their own camp. 
The same day the second victim of the surprise died, 
and his death so unnerved a number that they 
begged Boone to return to Watauga before a similar 
fate overtook the entire company. Boone's reply 
was a stubborn, bitter negative.^ He was resolved 
that, come what might, he would not again acknowl- 

^ Felix Walker's comment on Boone's management of the ex- 
pedition is well worth quoting : " In the sequel and conclusion of my 
narrative, I must not neglect to give honor to whom honor is due. 
Colonel Boone conducted the company under his care through 
the wilderness with great propriety, intrepidity, and courage; and 
was I to enter an exception to any part of his conduct, it would be 
on the ground that he appeared void of fear and of consequences — 
too little caution for the enterprise. But let me, with feeling 
recollection and lasting gratitude, ever remember the unremitting 
kindness, sympathy, and attention paid to me by Colonel Boone in 
my distress. He was my father, my physician, and friend; he at- 
tended me as his child, cured my wounds by the use of medicines 
from the woods, nursed me with paternal affection until I recovered, 
without the expectation of reward." 



io8 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

edge failure in his efforts to gain lodgment in Ken- 
tucky. He had also begun to surmise, as was actually 
the case, that the Indian attack had been the work 
of a small band of marauders, and that no assault 
in force need be feared. Convinced, though, by the 
attitude of his companions that many of them would 
desert him unless relief soon arrived, he despatched 
a messenger to carry to Henderson the following ur- 
gent and interesting missive: — 

"After my compliments to you I shall acquaint 
you with our misfortune. On March 25 a party of 
Indians fired on my company about half an hour 
before day, and killed Mr. Twetty and his negro, 
and wounded Mr. Walker very deeply, but I hope 
he will recover. On March 28, as we were hunting 
for provisions, we found Samuel Tate's son, who gave 
us an account that the Indians fired on their camp 
on the 27th day. My brother and I went down and 
found two men killed and sculped, Thomas Mc- 
Dowell and Jeremiah McPhelters. I have sent a 
man down to all the lower companies,^ in order to 
gather them all to the mouth of Otter Creek. s 

^ The reference is to the Harrodstown settlers and other home- 
seekers who had wandered in ahead of Boone's road-making party. 
It has been estimated that at that time more than one hundred 
white men were scattered in small companies through the country 
about the upper waters of the Kentucky. But the great majority 
fled to Watauga or western Virginia at news of the activity of the 



The Building of the Wilderness Road 109 

"My advice to you, sir, is to come or send as soon 
as possible. Your company is desired greatly, for 
the people are very uneasy, but are v^iUing to stay 
and venture their lives with you, and now is the time 
to flusterate the intentions of the Indians, and keep 
the country, whilst we are in it. If we give way to 
them now, it will ever be the case. This day we 
start from the battle-ground, for the mouth of Otter 
Creek, where we shall immediately erect a fort, which 
will be done before you can come or send — then we 
can send ten men to meet you, if you send for them. 

"N.B. — We stood on the ground and guarded 
our baggage till day, and lost nothing. We have about 
fifteen miles to Cantuck [the Kentucky River] at 
Otter Creek." 

This letter is dated April i, and after writing it 
Boone and the majority of his company began the 
last stage of their journey, leaving three or four to 
care for Felix Walker until, five days afterward, he 
was sufficiently recovered from his wound to be car- 
Indians. The attack of March 27, to which Boone refers in his 
letter, was evidently delivered against the camp of one of these little 
parties. Boone's letter, it may be added, is quoted from Collins's 
"History of Kentucky," where we find it explained that "with the 
exception of the words sculped and jlusterated the bad spelling has 
been corrected." It seems more than likely that there has also 
been some editing. Boone, though by no means illiterate, was not 
what one would call an expert letter-writer, and was always far 
more at ease with the rifle than with the pen. 



no Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

ried forward in a litter. Little actual road-making 
remained to be done, since from Silver Creek the 
route merged in a great buffalo trace — as trails 
were then usually called — worn smooth by the con- 
stant tramping of the heavy beasts to and fro from 
the Big Lick of the Kentucky, whither they went, as 
the name implies, to lick impregnated ground around 
a salt spring. 

Indeed, even as they approached their journey's 
end, the men from beyond the mountains heard a 
continuous, dull, rumbling sound. Boone, who 
understood its cause, bade them hurry to the top 
of a little eminence, looking down from which they 
beheld with astonishment a herd of two or three 
hundred buffalo lumbering awkwardly from the 
Lick and across the Kentucky River, followed by 
young calves that played and skipped about in bhss- 
ful unconsciousness of the fate which would soon be 
theirs, now that the white man had come to take 
possession of Kentucky. 

Looking from the eminence, too, the pioneers 
glimpsed a magnificent panorama, stretching off to 
the north and west across the verdant, rolHng country 
that in later times was to be covered with the "blue 
grass" to which Kentucky owes so much of its pros- 
perity. As yet all was wilderness, with never an 
indication of the marvels to be wrought through the 
intelligence of man. But it did not need a practised 



The Building of the Wilderness Road iii 

eye to perceive that Boone had brought his followers 
to a land of wondrous fertility. Even in the barrens 
about the salt lick vegetation was striving to assert 
itself and filling every nook and corner where it could 
hope to evade the deadly hoof-beats of the buffalo. 
The foliage of the forest trees, whether of the giant 
oak or the feathery elm, was fast adorning the ample 
boughs, which drooped with a fascinating grace. 
The ground, moss-carpeted, or dotted with the first 
wild flowers of spring, invited the weary road-makers 
to rest, and, sinking down, they gave themselves to 
undisturbed enjoyment of the scene before them. 

When they arose at Boone's bidding, it was to 
descend a gentle slope to a beautiful level in a shel- 
tered hollow. Open towards the Kentucky, which 
coursed with quiet dignity beneath a precipitous 
bank, the level was well wooded as it receded inland. 
Here, as Boone indicated with a wave of his hand, 
was the end of his Wilderness Road — of the narrow, 
blood-won path that stretched back for two hundred 
miles, through cane-brake and thicket, open plain 
and mountain gorge, to the Watauga settlements. 



CHAPTER VIII 

BOONE AS A LAW-MAKER 

WHILE Boone and his companions were in- 
dustriously engaged in the erection of a 
group of cabins in the sheltered level by the 
Kentucky, a picturesque cavalcade was slowly draw- 
ing near to them. At its head rode Richard Hen- 
derson. To do full justice to the promoter of the 
Transylvania Company, it must be said that, what- 
ever his faults, he had in him not a little of the stuff 
of which empire-builders are made. He was deter- 
mined that the foundations of his mid-wilderness 
colony should be securely laid, and that he would 
himself superintend at least the first stages of its 
organization. More than a week before Boone's 
messenger met him, he had begun the long journey 
westward, with an escort which numbered some 
fifty persons by the time it reached the Kentucky. 

Originally, it comprised but a personal, or official, 
following that included two of Henderson's partners, 
Nathaniel Hart and John Luttrell; his brothers, 
Nathaniel and Samuel Henderson; a legal represen- 



Boone as a Law-maker 113 

tative of the Cherokees named John Farrar; an 
adventurous Virginian, William Cocke, afterwards 
famous in Tennessee history as soldier, legislator, 
and judge; a few prospective settlers, and several 
slaves. But it constantly received accessions by the 
way. In Powell's Valley, where Henderson arrived 
March 30, he was joined by the future renowned 
Indian fighter, Benjamin Logan, and by a party of 
immigrants from Virginia, among whom was Abra- 
ham Hanks, the maternal grandfather of Abraham 
Lincoln. 

Slow progress was made until April 7, when, a few 
miles to the east of Cumberland Gap, the messenger 
from Silver Creek arrived with the dismal news of the 
attack on Boone's camp. Almost at the same time 
word was received that five travellers had been slain 
by the Indians while endeavoring to enter Kentucky. 
This alarming intelligence caused some of Hender- 
son's followers to turn back, but it had quite the con- 
trary effect on Henderson himself, as he feared that 
unless he soon brought up support Boone's road- 
makers would abandon Kentucky, and the Transyl- 
vania enterprise would come to an untimely end. 

It did not diminish his fears to meet, a few hours 
after passing through the Gap, a party of forty fugi- 
tives who declared that the Indians were out in force. 
Dreading lest at any moment he might also meet Boone 
in flight, he called for a volunteer to ride ahead and 



1 14 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

carry news of his coming. For this hazardous ser- 
vice Cocke promptly offered himself, and, "fixed off 
with a good Queen Anne's musket, plenty of am- 
munition, a tomahawk, a large cuttoe knife, a Dutch 
blanket, and no small quantity of jerked beef," ^ he 
galloped away amid the plaudits of the company, 
many of whom, on Henderson's showing, would 
gladly have galloped in the opposite direction had 
not shame restrained them. But, perceiving no 
signs of the enemy, the panic gradually subsided, 
excepting perhaps on the part of the slaves, who im- 
agined they saw a painted "Injun" behind every 
bush. Henderson himself, who had too much at 
stake to retreat, labored ceaselessly to restore confi- 
dence and hasten the advance. 

Beyond meeting an occasional fugitive, nothing of 
further moment occurred until April 15, when a seri- 
ous difference of opinion arose between Logan and 
the Transylvania partners, the upshot being that 
Logan and a friend named Gillespie left the main 
party at the Rockcastle, and turned westward to take 
up their residence in Lincoln County, some miles to 

* From a letter written by Henderson, June 12, 1775, to his part- 
ners, giving an account of his experiences on the road. This letter 
is printed in full, together with Felix Walker's narrative, the "Journal 
of the Transylvania House of Delegates," and much other valuable 
source material, in George W. Ranck's "Boonesborough," one of 
the best of the excellent Filson Club publications. 



Boone as a Law-maker 115 

the southwest of Boone's settlement. Logan's de- 
parture was not at all to Henderson's liking, and still 
less was an interview he had the following day with 
James McAfee, a Harrodstown settler, who, with his 
brothers Robert and Samuel, was hurrying eastward 
to escape the expected Indian avalanche. These 
McAfees had been among the first to visit Kentucky 
after the Boone-Finley expedition of 1769, and, like 
Boone, Logan, and Harrod, they became prominently 
identified with its early settlement. They hailed 
from Virginia, and were typical backwoodsmen. 

Henderson, after vainly endeavoring to persuade 
them that the danger from the Indians was greatly 
exaggerated, explained the purpose of his presence in 
Kentucky, and offered liberal terms of settlement if 
they would turn back with him and take up land in 
the Transylvania grant. To which James McAfee, 
who seems to have understood the situation better 
than most of the borderers, bluntly replied that Vir- 
ginia, not the Transylvania Company, had the 
disposal of Kentucky lands. Samuel and Robert 
McAfee, however, were sufficiently impressed by 
Henderson's glib exposition of the Cherokee sale, to 
disregard their brother's advice and throw in their 
fortunes with the Transylvanians. 

It was an incident, though, that cast a damper 
over the spirits of the Transylvania partners, arguing 
as it did possible opposition on the part of other bor- 



Ii6 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

derers, such as James Harrod, who had already 
taken possession of land within the limits defined 
by the Sycamore Shoals Treaty. But their thoughts 
were almost immediately diverted into more pleasant 
channels by the appearance of Michael Stoner, sent 
by Boone to let Henderson know that all was going 
well, and to assist him with a relay of fresh pack- 
horses. Henderson also learned from Stoner that 
Cocke had reached "Fort Boone" in safety, and that 
Felix Walker was rapidly recovering from the wound 
sustained in the surprise at Silver Creek. 

April 20,^ two days after they had been joined by 
Stoner, and after having been travelling for more than 
a month over a road that had proved for most part 
"either hilly, stony, slippery, miry, or bushy," the 
three Proprietors of Transylvania and their attend- 
ant retinue rode proudly into Boone's little settle- 
ment, where they were received with a salute of 
twenty-five guns. An hour later the entire company 
sat down to a banquet, of which the principal vi- 
ands were cold water and lean buffalo meat. 

Before nightfall, spurred possibly by dread of in- 

* This date is worth noting, as it was just onet day after the raid 
on Concord and the battle of Lexington. It is certainly an inter- 
esting coincidence that the opening gun in the struggle for indepen- 
dence should have been fired at practically the time when the 
expansion of the American people may be said to have begun in 
earnest. 



'I 



Boone as a Law-maker 117 

terference from Virginia, Henderson turned his at- 
tention to the task of allotting land for immediate 
settlement, and at once made the distinctly embar- 
rassing discovery that Boone and his companions 
had preempted the choicest locations for themselves. 
Rather than have trouble, the tactful Proprietor 
decided to leave them in undisturbed possession and 
appease the rest by locating the site of the capital of 
Transylvania, not in the sheltered level chosen by 
Boone, but some little distance from it, on a com- 
manding elevation overlooking the Kentucky. 

The work of clearing away the trees and under- 
growth began without delay, and in little more than 
a week's time the foundations were laid for a large 
fortified "station" to which, fittingly enough, the 
name of Boonesborough was given. Not a vestige 
of it remains to-day, but fortunately a plan, drawn 
by Henderson himself, has been preserved, and from 
this it appears that Boonesborough was a typical 
palisaded village of the pioneering period. It con- 
sisted of nearly thirty one-story cabins, arranged in a 
hollow square and enclosed by a log stockade, part 
of which was formed by the backs of the cabins. At 
each corner stood a two-story blockhouse, the second 
story projecting about two feet over the lower, so that 
the inmates could shoot from above upon an enemy 
attempting to scale the stockade, which was entered 
by only two gates, one opening towards the buffalo 



Ii8 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

lick, the other towards the river. Stockade, cabins, 
and blockhouses were provided with little port- 
holes for rifles. It was a rude system of defence, but 
it answered admirably the requirements of Indian 
warfare. 

Of course the building of Boonesborough took 
time, but Henderson found much to keep him busily 
engaged while its construction was in progress. As 
already stated, there were earlier settlers within the 
limits of the Transylvania Purchase, settlers at 
Harrodstown and also at Boiling Spring, which might 
almost be called a suburb of Harrodstown, since it 
was quite near that place and had likewise been 
founded by James Harrod. Besides these two set- 
tlements, a party of Virginians, under the command 
of Captain John Floyd, had quite recently estab- 
Hshed themselves on Dick's River, some thirty miles 
southwest of Boonesborough. Floyd was an official 
surveyor for Virginia, and it seemed altogether likely 
that he would refuse to recognize the validity of the 
purchase from the Cherokees. But when he visited 
Boonesborough, early in May, he came in the friend- 
liest mood imaginable, assuring Henderson that if 
good terms were offered to him and his comrades, 
they should gladly become citizens of Transylvania. 
Otherwise, they would remove across the Kentucky 
and settle on land not included in the Cherokee grant. 
Similarly, James Harrod, speaking in behalf of the 



Boone as a Law-maker 119 

settlers at Harrodstown and Boiling Spring, ex- 
pressed willingness to take title from the Transyl- 
vania Company. 

Greatly relieved by this agreeable solution of a 
problem that had worried him not a little, Henderson 
bent his energies to the no less difficult task of or- 
ganizing a government for his colony. He had 
seen enough of the backwoodsmen — whom he 
seems to have heartily disliked, for he describes 
them in his journal as "a set of scoundrels who 
scarcely believe in God -or fear a Devil, if we were to 
judge from most of their words, looks, and actions" 
— to know that they would insist on having a voice 
in the management of affairs. 

The question was how to reconcile their instinctive 
desire for self-government with his determination to 
keep the supreme authority in the hands of himself 
and his partners. If they intrusted to a popular 
assembly the power of making and executing laws, 
it was quite conceivable that legislation fatal to the 
interests of the company might be enacted. The 
only feasible course, as it seemed to him, was to frame 
a semi-autocratic, semi-democratic scheme of govern- 
ment, giving an outward semblance of sovereignty to 
the "people'' but withholding its realities. It was a 
plan ill-adapted either to the temper of the times or 
to the conditions of life in the wilderness, and it was 
foredoomed to failure. But it promised well enough 



120 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

at first, and is of the greatest importance to students 
of American history, since out of it grew Kentucky's 
first constitution, and the first meeting of a fully 
organized legislature west of the AUeghanies. 

The settlers, as may be imagined, were delighted 
with the announcement that it was proposed to con- 
vene a representative assembly with delegates from 
each of the four settlements, Boonesborough, Har- 
rodstown. Boiling Spring, and Floyd's settlement, 
to which the name of St. Asaph had been given. 
Elections were held about May 20, and on May 23 
the delegates gathered at Boonesborough, where the 
fort was still so far from completion that they were 
obliged to meet in the open, under a giant elm.^ 

* Henderson, in his journal, under date of May 14, gives a graphic 
description of this historic tree: "About fifty yards from the place 
where I am writing and right before me to the south (the river about 
fifty yards behind my camp, and a fine spring a little to the west) 
stands one of the finest elms that perhaps nature ever produced in 
any region. This tree is placed in a beautiful plain surrounded by a 
turf of fine white clover, forming a green to its very stock to which 
there is scarcely anything to be likened. The trunk is about four 
feet through to the first branches which are about nine feet high 
from the ground. From thence above, it so regularly extends its 
large branches on every side at such equal distances as to form the 
most beautiful tree that imagination can suggest. The diameter 
of its branches from the extreme ends is one hundred feet — and 
every fair day it describes a semi-circle, on the heavenly green 
around it, of upward of four hundred feet, and any time between 



)m 



Boone as a Law-maker I2i 

Boonesborough was represented by six delegates, 
and each of the others sent four. With few excep- 
tions the electors had chosen the real leaders of their 
respective communities, the men who had been con- 
spicuous for their efforts to carry civilization west- 
ward. The Boonesborough delegation included 
Daniel and Squire Boone, WilHam Cocke, Richard 
Callaway, William Moore, and Richard Hender- 
son's brother Samuel, the last-named having been 
elected probably out of compliment to the chief 
Proprietor. From Harrodstown came Thomas 
Slaughter, Dr. John Lythe (a clergyman of the 
Church of England), Valentine Harman, and James 
Douglas. James Harrod headed the delegation 
from Boiling Spring, and was accompanied by 
Nathan Hammond, Azariah Davis, and Isaac Hite, 
two of whom, Davis and Hite, had been associated 
with Harrod in the founding of both Harrodstown 
and Boiling Spring. John Floyd, of course, was a 
delegate from St. Asaph, which also sent John Todd, 
Samuel Wood, and Alexander Spotswood Dandridge. 
It is well to bear these names in mind, for we shall 

the hours of ten and two, one hundred persons may commodiously 
seat themselves under its branches. This divine tree, or rather one 
of the many proofs of the existence from all eternity of its divine 
Author, is to be our church, state-house, council-chamber." 
Clearly, there v^as a strong strain of the romantic and the senti- 
mental in Judge Richard Henderson of North Carolina. 



122 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

meet with them again, and some of them quite fre- 
quently, in connection with later events of impor- 
tance. 

A low platform had been built at the foot of the 
great elm, and around this the delegates grouped 
themselves, some seated on the turf, others on logs, 
and others standing erect, leaning on their rifles. It 
was a picturesque assemblage, and an assemblage 
of serious-minded men, very much in earnest. No 
more striking commentary on the spirit in which they 
came together can be found than in the fact that 
they invited Dr. Lythe to open the proceedings by 
a prayer for divine guidance in their deliberations. 

Following this, they elected Thomas Slaughter as 
their presiding officer, and then waited in a body on 
the three Proprietors — Henderson, Hart, and Lut- 
trell — to notify them that the "Transylvania House 
of Delegates" had been formally organized, and 
would be pleased to hear any suggestions they might 
have to make. At this announcement — which, 
needless to say, had been prearranged — Henderson 
mounted the platform and, in a resonant voice and 
with no small dramatic effect, read aloud a carefully 
prepared address. 

Printed in full in Mr. Ranck's "Boonesborough** 
it constitutes a most interesting document. It re- 
veals Henderson's constant and well-grounded fear 
of "foreign" intervention, his anxiety to vindicate 



I 



Boone as a Law-maker 123 

the rightfulness of the cession by the Cherokees, 
and his intense desire to conceal from the represen- 
tatives of the people of Transylvania the subordinate 
part which he intended they should play in the gov- 
ernment of the Colony. 

He began by artfully flattering their well-known 
democratic prepossessions, and by emphasizing in 
glowing language the influence which the laws drawn 
up by them might be expected to have. "If pru- 
dence, firmness, and wisdom," he assured them, "are 
suffered to influence your counsels and direct your 
conduct, the peace and harmony of thousands may 
be expected to result from your deliberations. . . . 
You, perhaps, are fixing the palladium, or placing 
the first corner-stone of an edifice, the height and 
magnificence of whose superstructure is now in the 
womb of futurity, and can only become great and 
glorious in proportion to the excellence of its founda- 
tion." He reminded them — and the sentiment was 
no doubt received with an outburst of applause — 
that "all power is originally with the people." He 
vehemently insisted that they had the right to make 
laws for the regulation of their conduct, "without 
giving offence to Great Britain or any of the Ameri- 
can Colonies, without disturbing the repose of any 
society or community under Heaven." 

Adverting to the official opposition to the Sycamore 
Shoals Treaty, he especially denounced the procla- 



124 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

mation of Governor Martin of North CaroHna, as 
falsely "placing the proprietors of the soil at the head 
of a lawless train of abandoned villains, against whom 
the regal authority ought to be executed"; and he 
urged the delegates to enact such laws as would dis- 
prove utterly the charge that Transylvania had been 
founded as " an asylum for debtors and other persons 
of desperate circumstances." 

This naturally led him to speak of the measures 
which he regarded as essential to the welfare of the 
community. Courts would have to be established 
for the punishment of criminals, as also for "the 
recovery of debts, and determining matters of dispute 
with respect to property, contracts, torts, injuries, 
etc." No less important was the organization of a 
militia system. It was quite true that as yet there 
had been no recurrence of the Indian alarm, but, 
Henderson warned his hearers, it could only be a 
question of time when they would be involved in a 
war with the savages. 

"I am persuaded," said he, "that nothing but 
their entire ignorance of our weakness and want of 
order has hitherto preserved us from the destructive 
and rapacious bands of cruelty, and given us an op- 
portunity at this time of forming some defensive plans 
to be supported and carried into execution by the 
authority and sanction of a well-digested law." He 
also referred to the need for a game law, pointing out 



Boone as a Law-maker 125 

that the buffalo and other food-giving and fur-bear- 
ing animals were rapidly disappearing as a result of 
the settlers' wasteful methods of hunting.^ In con- 
clusion, he reiterated the great interest felt by the 
Proprietors in the welfare of Transylvania, and their 
intention of cheerfully concurring " in every measure 
which can in the most distant and remote degree 
promote its happiness or contribute to its grandeur/' 
Highly satisfied with his address, the delegates set 
about giving effect to its recommendations, and, 
backwoodsmen though most of them were, went to 
work with a noteworthy regard for parliamentary 
usage. Committees were appointed to draw up and 
report bills, and when brought in, the bills were de- 
bated, referred back, and amended before being put 
on final passage. In this law-making Daniel Boone 
was conspicuous. He was chairman of the com- 
mittee intrusted with framing a law for the preserva- 
tion of game, and he also sponsored a measure of 

^ On this point there is a luminous reference in Henderson's 
journal, under date as early as May 9. "We found it very difficult 
at first," he records, "to stop great waste in killing meat. Some 
would kill three, four, five, or half a dozen buffaloes and not take 
half a horse load from them all. For want of a little obligatory 
law our game as soon as got here, if not before, was driven off very 
much. Fifteen or twenty miles was as short a distance as good 
hunters thought of getting meat, nay sometimes they were obliged 
to go thirty, though by chance once or twice a week buffalo 
was killed within five or six miles." 



126 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

great historic interest — a bill for improving the 
breed of horses. Little did the rugged road-maker 
and pioneer dream that in this bill lay the germ for 
Kentucky's future fame as the land, par excellence, 
of fine horses. 

Other bills passed during the brief session — it 
lasted less than a week — related to the establish- 
ment of a militia and tribunals of justice, the regu- 
lating of legal fees and of the issuance of writs of 
attachment, and, finally, "an act to prevent profane 
swearing and Sabbath breaking." Here, in truth, 
we catch a glimpse of the Covenanter spirit, of 
the sound religious principles which these rough- 
and-ready frontiersmen brought with them from 
their cabin homes of the Virginia and Carolina 
border. 

But the principal event of the session was the sign- 
ing of a compact between the Proprietors and the 
representatives of the people. This was the colony's 
constitution, and the earliest document of the kind 
— barring the Watauga Articles of Association, 
which have not come down to us — recorded in the 
annals of the West. According to the " Journal of the 
House of Delegates," it was drawn up by a com- 
mittee consisting of Representatives Todd, Lythe, 
Douglas, and Hite; but to judge from the evidence 
afforded by its provisions, it must have been prepared 
under the watchful eye of Richard Henderson. It 




Q -q 



^ I 



Boone as a Law-maker 127 

unmistakably surrendered the control of public 
business to the Proprietors, and left the House of 
Delegates with the shadow rather than the substance 
of authority. Yet it contained some praiseworthy 
features, particularly a clause declaring for religious 
toleration. It is not a long document, and is well 
worth reprinting. 

"Whereas," it opens, "it is highly necessary for 
the peace of the Proprietors and the security of the 
people of this Colony, that the powers of the one and 
the liberties of the other be ascertained ; We, Richard 
Henderson, Nathaniel Hart, and J. Luttrell, on be- 
half of ourselves as well as the other Proprietors of 
the Colony of Transylvania, of the one part, and the 
representatives of the people of said Colony, in con- 
vention assembled, of the other part — do most 
solemnly enter into the following contract or agree- 
ment, to wit: — 

"That the election of delegates in this Colony be 
annual. 

"That the Convention may adjourn, and meet 
again on their own adjournment; Provided, that in 
cases of great emergency, the Proprietors may call 
together the delegates before the time adjourned to; 
and, if a majority do not attend, they may dissolve 
them and call a new one. 

"That, to prevent dissension and delay of busi- 
ness, one Proprietor shall act for the whole, or some 



128 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

one delegated by them for that purpose, who shall 
always reside in the Colony. 

"That there be perfect religious freedom and 
toleration; Provided, that the propagators of any 
doctrine or tenets evidently tending to the subversion 
of our laws, shall, for such conduct, be amenable to, 
and punished by, the civil courts. 

"That the judges of the superior or supreme 
courts be appointed by the Proprietors, but be sup- 
ported by the people, and to them be answerable for 
their malconduct. 

"That the quit-rents never exceed two shillings 
per hundred acres. 

"That the Proprietors appoint a sheriff, who shall 
be one of three persons recommended by the court. 

"That the judges of the superior courts have, 
without fee or reward, the appointment of the clerks 
of this colony. 

"That the judges of the inferior courts be recom- 
mended by the people, and approved by the Pro- 
prietors, and by them commissioned. 

"That all other civil and military officers be within 
the appointment of the Proprietors. 

"That the office of surveyor-general belong to no 
person interested or a partner in this purchase. 

"That the legislative authority, after the strength 
and maturity of the Colony will permit, consist of 
three branches, to wit: the delegates or representa- 



Boone as a Law-maker 129 

tives chosen by the people; a council, not exceeding 
twelve men, possessed of landed estate, who reside 
in the Colony, and the Proprietors. 

"That nothing with respect to the number of 
delegates from any town or settlement shall here- 
after be drawn into precedent, but that the number 
of representatives shall be ascertained by law, when 
the state of the Colony will admit of amendment. 

"That the land office be always open. 

"That commissions without profit be granted 
without fee. 

"That the fees and salaries of all officers appointed 
by the Proprietors, be settled and regulated by the 
laws of the country. 

"That the Convention have the sole power of rais- 
ing and appropriating all public moneys, and elect- 
ing their treasurer. 

"That, for a short time, till the state of the Colony 
will permit to fix some place of holding the Conven- 
tion which shall be permanent, the place of meeting 
shall be agreed upon between the Proprietors and 
the Convention. 

"To the faithful and rehgious and perpetual obser- 
vance of all and every of the above articles, the said 
Proprietors, on behalf of themselves as well as those 
absent, and the chairman of the Convention, on 
behalf of them and their constituents, have hereunto 
interchangeably set their hands and affixed their 



130 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

seals, the twenty-seventh day of May, one thousand 
seven hundred and seventy-five." 

Thus, the taxing power was the sole governmental 
faculty of any importance bestowed on the repre- 
sentatives of the people. Otherwise there was 
scarcely any check on the Proprietors, who could fill 
the courts and other civil offices with functionaries 
of their own choosing, could select military officers 
subservient to their wishes; and, by resorting to 
the clause providing for the dissolution of the Con- 
vention might so manoeuvre that even the popular 
branch of the legislature would be "packed" in 
their interest. It was, in fine, an excellent frame- 
work for the creation of an oligarchic system not 
unlike that under which Henderson and several of 
his Transylvania partners had flourished in North 
Carolina. But, as the Regulator Movement had 
demonstrated in the case of the North Carolina 
system, the oligarchic and the autocratic could not 
hope to endure in the free air of the border. 

For the present, however, no objections were 
raised, and the delegates brought their labors to a 
close by participating in a singular but impressive 
ceremony, intended probably to confirm them in the 
idea that all who would settle in Transylvania must 
purchase their land from the Company. As was 
said at the beginning of this chapter, Henderson 
had been accompanied from Watauga by a lawyer 



i 



Boone as a Law-maker 131 

named Farrar, retained as the representative of the 
Cherokees. On the morning after the signing of 
the compact, Henderson, standing under the huge 
elm, read to the delegates the title deed executed 
by the Cherokees, and called upon Farrar to com- 
plete the cession of the soil by performing the ancient 
feudal ceremony of "livery of seisin." Stooping 
down, the lawyer cut out a piece of the luxuriant turf 
and handed it to Henderson, pronouncing as he did 
so the legal formula by which possession of the soil 
was specifically "dehvered'* to the Transylvania 
Proprietors. 

The next day, Sunday, May 28, the representatives 
from Harrodstown, Boiling Spring, and St. Asaph 
started for their homes, but before their departure 
all attended divine service, conducted by Dr. Lythe 
beneath the shade of the giant elm. "It was," 
as Mr. Ranck finely says, in his history of Boones- 
borough, "a religious event absolutely unique. 
Most of the usual accessories of the service were 
wanting, from echoing church bell and 'long drawn 
aisle' to peaHng organ. No woman was there to join 
in htany or hymn, no child to lisp *amen.' Only 
men were present — Dissenters as well as Episcopa- 
lians — for common dangers had drawn them to- 
gether, and this one chance for public worship was 
eagerly seized by pioneers who were as strong in 
simple faith as stout in heart." 



132 



Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 



As was the custom, prayers were said for the king 
and royal family of England. It was the first and 
last time such prayers were publicly recited on the 
soil of Kentucky. Within a week new-comers 
from the East brought the long-delayed tidings of 
the battle of Lexington. From settlement to settle- 
ment the news flew like wild-fire, to create in each 
a furore of excitement and enthusiasm. Nor can 
we beheve that the liberty-loving sons of the unfet- 
tered frontier would have huzzaed one whit less 
loudly could they have foreseen the woes which the 
struggle for independence was to bring upon them. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE PASSING OF TRANSYLVANIA 

WITH the adjournment of the House of Dele- 
gates the people of Boonesborough settled 
down to the everyday life of the frontier, 
cultivating the corn and vegetables which they had 
planted at the time of their arrival, completing the 
construction of their dwelling-places, and going on 
long hunts. There were numerous departures, both 
of settlers who, like Daniel Boone, wished to bring out 
their famiHes, and of others, such as WilHam Cocke, 
who had journeyed to Kentucky more in a spirit of 
adventure and curiosity than as true home-seekers. 

Boone was among the first to leave, setting out 
June 13 in company with a number of young men 
sent by Henderson to obtain fresh supplies from the 
Watauga settlements. He found his wife and 
children well, and late in the autumn returned with 
them. A few days afterwards Richard Callaway, 
who had gone East on a similar mission, arrived 
at Boonesborough with Mrs. Callaway and their boys 
and girls, together with several other immigrants 
and their families. To Boone's wife and daughters, 

^33 



134 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

however, as he often recalled with pride, belongs 
the honor of having been the first white women to 
set foot on the banks of the Kentucky. 

Meantime, Henderson and Luttrell had started 
for North Carolina in order to confer with their 
partners regarding the future of Transylvania. 
The American Revolution had by this time made 
such progress that no danger was to be apprehended 
from the representatives of the British Crown either 
in Virginia or North Carolina, and although Hender- 
son was well aware that the recently created patriot 
government of Virginia would be unwilling to forego 
Virginia's claim to the whole of Kentucky, he was 
hopeful of being able to persuade the Continental 
Congress to recognize the validity of his purchase 
from the Indians. 

Should the Congress take such action it would, 
he felt, estabHsh for all time the right of the Transyl- 
vania Company to dispose of, as its members saw fit, 
the seventeen million acres embraced in the Cherokee 
Cession. In any event, something had to be done 
to relieve the Proprietors of the perpetual anxiety 
created by the knowledge that at any time Transyl- 
vania might be overrun by an army of immigrants 
unwilling to pay for the land on which they chose 
to settle, and basing their refusal on the prior right 
of Virginia to the country. 

Arriving in North Carolina about the middle of 



The Passing of Transylvania 135 

September, Henderson immediately called a general 
meeting of the Company. It was held at the little 
town of Oxford, in Granville County, with seven 
of the nine partners present, the absentees being 
David Hart and his brother Nathaniel, who had 
remained at Boonesborough to keep a watchful eye 
on the trend of events. After taking action on several 
matters of a personal or purely commercial character 
— such as fixing the terms under which future settlers 
could obtain land, appointing John Williams as the 
Company's permanent representative in Transyl- 
vania, and voting Daniel Boone a gift of two thousand 
acres in recognition of "the signal services he has 
rendered to the Company" — the Proprietors gave 
their undivided attention to the all-important prob- 
lem of successfully combatting the almost certain 
opposition of Virginia. 

It was boldly resolved to endeavor to secure Tran- 
sylvania's admission as the fourteenth Colony in the 
Revolutionary Union, and for this purpose the 
partners selected one of their number, James Hogg, 
to lay before the Continental Congress a memorial in 
which, after a preamble setting forth their firm belief 
in the legality of the purchase, and their determina- 
tion "to give it up only with their lives," they ex- 
pressed an earnest desire to be considered "as 
brethren engaged in the same great cause of liberty 
and of mankind," and concluded by saying: — 



136 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

"From the generous plan of liberty adopted by 
the Congress and that noble love of mankind which 
appears in all their proceedings, the memorialists 
please themselves that the United Colonies v^ill take 
the infant Colony of Transylvania into their pro- 
tection; and they, in return, w^ill do everything in 
their pov^er, and give such assistance in the general 
cause of America as the Congress shall judge to be 
suitable to their abilities. Therefore the memorial- 
ists hope and earnestly expect that Transylvania may 
be added to the number of the United Colonies, and 
that James Hogg, Esq., be received as their delegate, 
and admitted to a seat in the honorable the Con- 
tinental Congress." 

An instructive side-light on the men who composed 
the Transylvania Company is afforded by the fact 
that they did not hesitate to turn Hogg's delicate 
mission to money-making purposes. "Resolved," 
reads one of the resolutions adopted at the same 
meeting, "that Mr. Hogg be empowered to treat 
and contract with any person or persons who may 
incline to purchase lands from the Company, and 
that he be allowed his expenses for transacting the 
above business." 

Excepting the suave Richard Henderson, Hogg 
was perhaps the best-fitted of them all for this sordid 
combination of diplomacy and land-jobbing. He 
was a shrewd, canny Scot, with an eye ever open to 



J 



The Passing of Transylvania 137 

the main chance; he was a man of good appearance 
and plausible manner, and he was abundantly en- 
dowed with what, in the slang of the present day, 
would be described as " nerve." ^ When he reached 
Philadelphia, he found Congress absorbed in the 
serious work of reorganizing and providing for the 
patriot army, but this did not prevent him from 
thrusting himself and his affairs upon its attention. 
He sought out John Adams, Samuel Adams, Silas 
Deane, and other leading men, and by sheer per- 
sistency interested them in Transylvania. 

They examined the maps he had brought with him 
from North Carolina, listened carefully to his de- 
tailed recital of the circumstances attending the 
purchase from the Cherokees, the building of the 
Wilderness Road, and the settling of Boonesborough, 
and gave their cordial approval to the democratic 
manner in which the settlers had been brought 
together in convention for the purpose of framing 
the laws of the Colony. But they made it plainly 
evident that they would not countenance any pro- 
prietary form of government. Silas Deane, ever 
an enthusiast in the cause of liberty and democracy, 
was even at the pains of drawing up an outline scheme 

^ It is perhaps worth noting that the term "nerve" also found 
place in the slang of the border. But the pioneers used it to indi- 
cate a high and praiseworthy degree of courage, not in its modern 
implication of unblushing effrontery. 



138 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

of government for the new Colony, based on the 
Connecticut system. 

"You would be amazed," wrote Hogg to Hender- 
son, "to see how much in earnest these speculative 
gentlemen are about the plan to be adopted by the 
Transylvanians. They entreat, they pray, that 
we make it a free government, and beg that no 
mercenary or ambitious views in the Proprietors may 
prevent it. Quit-rents, they say, is a mark of vassal- 
age, and hope they will not be established in Transyl- 
vania. They even threaten us with their opposition 
if we do not act upon liberal principles when we 
have it so much in our power to render ourselves 
immortal. Many of them advised a law against 
negroes." 

But, besides the obnoxious proprietary element 
in the government of Transylvania, there was an 
insuperable obstacle to recognizing the new Colony, 
even though Virginia should make no protest. 
At that time all hope of a reconcihation with the 
mother country had not been abandoned, and as 
the Adamses pointed out to Hogg, Congress would 
be greatly handicapped in its efforts towards a peace- 
ful adjustment if it received into the Union a Colony 
established on land purchased from the Indians by 
private individuals, for such a purchase was ex- 
pressly forbidden by the King's Proclamation of 
1763. 



The Passing of Transylvania 139 

**We have petitioned and addressed the king/* said 
they, ** and have entreated him to point out some 
mode of accommodation. There seems to be an im- 
propriety in embarrassing our reconcihation with 
anything new; and the taking under our protection 
a body of people who have acted in defiance of the 
king's proclamations will be looked on as a con- 
firmation of that independent spirit with which we 
are daily reproached." 

Nothing daunted, Hogg pointed to a clause in 
the Proprietors' memorial disavowing any desire 
of throwing off their allegiance to the Crown. This, 
though, scarcely met the objection raised by the 
Adamses. Still Hogg persisted until, to be rid of 
him, they declared that, as Transylvania fell within 
the charter boundaries of Virginia, they could make 
no move in his favor without the consent of their 
colleagues from Virginia. 

It was an unwelcome intimation, and with the 
gloomiest forebodings Hogg interviewed Jefferson 
and Wythe, two of Virginia's delegates to Congress. 
He was careful to say nothing whatever about the 
memorial, or about his pretensions to a seat in Con- 
gress, and simply explained that the Transylv^ania 
Company, fearing misrepresentations against it, 
had sent him to Philadelphia to let it be known 
that the Proprietors and people of Transylvania were 
heartily on the side of liberty. He hoped, therefore. 



140 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

that the gentlemen from Virginia would have no 
objection to his laying the views and desires of Tran- 
sylvania before Congress. 

In reply, as he had fully expected, Jefferson and 
Wythe hinted that it would be well first to determine 
the status of Transylvania, — that quite possibly 
Virginia might wish to exercise its charter rights, — 
and, until such determination were had, they would 
strongly oppose any "acknowledgment" of Transyl- 
vania by Congress. To be sure, Jefferson promised 
"that if his advice were followed, all the use they 
should make of their charter would be to prevent 
any arbitrary or oppressive government to be estab- 
lished within the boundaries of it"; and he further 
assured Hogg "that it was his wish to see a free 
government established at the back of theirs, properly 
united with them." ^ But he would by no means 
consent to Congressional recognition of Transylvania 
as a separate Colony, prior to the renunciation of 
Virginia's claim by the people of Virginia in con- 
vention assembled. 

The thing for you to do, he bluntly told Hogg, is 
to send a representative to the next Convention and 
gain its approval — the matter is one for Virginia 

^ From Hogg's report of the results of his ''embassy," a curious 
and interesting document. It may be consulted in Peter Force's 
"American Archives," Vol. IV of the Sixth Series; or in Mr. 
Ranck's " Boonesborough." 



The Passing of Transylvania 141 

to decide, not Congress. Wythe was of the same 
opinion, and so was Richard Henry Lee, whom Hogg 
interviewed a few days later. Other delegates, in- 
cluding the North Carolinians Hooper and Hewes, 
who had been very friendly to him, warned him that 
Congress would do nothing, and that it would be 
unwise for him to press farther for recognition. 

He had arrived at Philadelphia late in October; 
before the end of November he was homeward 
bound, reluctantly persuaded that his mission had 
proved a failure, at any rate on its diplomatic side; 
and, by the opening of the new year, the Transylvania 
partners were feverishly preparing for the bitter 
poHtical fight which it was now certain they would 
have to wage in Virginia. 

In the interval a storm had been brewing for them 
in quite another quarter — in Transylvania itself. 
All through the summer and autumn a constant, 
if as yet comparatively insignificant, stream of 
immigration had flowed across the mountains, 
through Cumberland Gap, and along the Wilderness 
Road to the mid-Kentucky wilderness. Among 
the newcomers were men destined to fill conspicuous 
roles in the dramatic and tragic struggle of the next 
few years. One of them was George Rogers Clark, 
the future conqueror of Kaskaskia and Vincennes 
and hero of the unforgettable mid-winter march 
across the drowned lands of the Wabash. Another 



142 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

was William Whitley, the celebrated hunter, scout, 
and Indian fighter. 

Jesse Benton, the father of that great statesman 
of the West, Thomas Hart Benton, also came in 
about this time, as did the recklessly brave Hugh 
McGary, whom we shall find leading the Ken- 
tuckians to destruction at the battle of the Blue Lick. 
Still another arrival during the autumn of 1775, 
though not by the Wilderness Road, was Robert 
Patterson, a participant in the founding of three 
cities, Lexington in Kentucky, and Cincinnati and 
Dayton in Ohio. 

All together, between two and three hundred home- 
seekers were added to the population of Transylvania 
before the close of 1775. They could not reasonably 
expect to take land under the terms offered by the 
Company to those who had opened up the country 
during the spring of that year, but they by no means 
anticipated the stiff advance in prices put into effect 
upon the arrival of the Company's agent, John 
Williams, about the beginning of December. 

Formerly, land had been offered at twenty shillings 
per hundred acres; now the same acreage was to 
cost fifty shillings, with the expectation of a further 
advance after June i, 1776. No single allotment 
was to include more than six hundred and forty 
acres, "except in particular cases," and on every 
hundred acres an annual quit-rent of two shiUings 



The Passing of Transylvania 143 

would be exacted from old and new settlers alike. 
Every title-deed was to contain a clause requiring 
the purchaser to hand over to the Company one-half 
of all the gold, silver, copper, lead, or sulphur he 
might discover on his property. Moreover, certain 
fees had to be paid before a purchase would be con- 
sidered complete — fees for entering a claim, for 
having a survey made, and for the drawing up of the 
deed — amounting in all to nearly two pounds. 
And, as Williams publicly advertised, every settler 
was required to pay these fees in full before April i, 
1776; otherwise his land would be adjudged open 
to settlement by any one making the necessary 
payments. 

Nor was this all that exasperated the people of 
Transylvania and embittered them against the 
Company. The discovery was made that the Pro- 
prietors had reserved for themselves and a few 
favored friends nearly seventy thousand acres of 
choice land at the Falls of the Ohio, where it was 
almost certain the most important commercial cen- 
tre of the Colony would ultimately be established. 
And the settlers found another, though minor, 
grievance in the opening of a Company's store at 
Boonesborough, with goods selling at exorbitant 
prices — how exorbitant may be judged from the 
fact that while the Company paid ordinary laborers 
less than a shilling and a half a day, and hunters 



144 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and road-makers only two shillings, lead sold in 
the Company's store at nearly a shilling, and gun- 
powder at ten shillings per pound. Anger and dis- 
satisfaction spread rapidly, and before long a de- 
termined movement was under way to break the 
power of the Proprietors. 

This movement had its origin at Harrodstown 
and Boiling Spring, both of which places, it will be 
remembered, had been settled before the building of 
the Wilderness Road and the advent of Henderson, 
Hart, and Luttrell. Enraged at the thought that they 
were expected to pay tribute — in the way of quit- 
rents and land-office fees — to men who had not 
even preceded them into Kentucky, James Harrod 
and other of the original settlers recalled with satis- 
faction the savagely denunciatory proclamations of 
the governors of Virginia and North Carolina. It 
should not be a difficult matter, they fancied, to pick 
flaws in the Company's title to Transylvania. They 
looked up the provisions of the Proclamation of 
1763 and of the Treaty of 1768, by which the Six 
Nations had rehnquished to the British Crown their 
pretensions to Kentucky. They also scrutinized 
more closely than heretofore the compact between 
the Proprietors and the people, and realized for the 
first time how cleverly Henderson had hoodwinked 
the members of the House of Delegates. In their 
anxiety, perplexity, and wrath they resolved that, 



The Passing of Transylvania 145 

come what might, they would disown the proprietary 
government and agitate for the recognition of Tran- 
sylvania as a part of Virginia. 

An incident which occurred two days before Christ- 
mas greatly advanced their "treasonable" project 
by affording an object-lesson in the need the settlers 
might have for outside aid against the Indians, 
and the advantage it would be to them if they were 
in a position to demand assistance from one of the 
older and more powerful colonies. The Indians 
had observed their treaty obligations so faithfully 
that the Transylvanians had almost come to beheve 
that they would be quite free from molestation. But 
on December 23 two Boonesborough boys, McQuin- 
ney and Saunders, were surprised by a party of 
Shawnees. Four days afterwards McQuinney, 
killed and scalped, was found in a corn-field three 
miles north of the Kentucky. Saunders's fate was 
never learned. 

Naturally there was much excitement until it 
developed that the raiders were not more than half 
a dozen in number, and that no organized attack was 
imminent. But even so, the affair drove home to the 
minds of the Transylvanians a vivid appreciation of 
their exposed situation, and incHned them all the 
more towards the views of the Harrodstown-Boiling 
Spring agitators, who made such progress that before 
the snows of winter had melted they were able to send 



146 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

to Virginia a largely signed memorial voicing their 
discontent and their aspirations. 

For a backwoods production this was a remarkable 
document, devised with a shrewdness that would 
have done credit to Richard Henderson himself. 
It was addressed to the Virginia Convention, as a 
petition from "the inhabitants and some of the in- 
tended settlers of that part of North America now 
denominated Transylvania," and without any super- 
fluous words plunged directly into an attack on the 
Company. "Whereas," the memorialists declared, 
"some of your petitioners became adventurers in 
that country from the advantageous reports of their 
friends who first explored it, and others since allured 
by the specious shew of the easy terms on which 
the land was to be purchased from those who styled 
themselves Proprietors, have, at a great expense and 
many hardships, settled there, under the faith of 
holding the lands by an indefeasible title, which 
those gentlemen assured them they were capable 
of making. But your petitioners have been greatly 
alarmed at the late conduct of those gentlemen, in 
advancing the price of the purchase money from 
twenty shillings to fifty shillings, per hundred acres, 
and at the same time have increased the fees of 
entry and surveying to a most exorbitant rate; and, 
by the short period prefixed for taking up the lands, 
even on those extravagant terms, they plainly evince 



J 



The Passing of Transylvania 147 

their intentions of rising in their demands as the 
settlers increase, or their insatiable avarice shall 
dictate. 

"And your petitioners have been more justly 
alarmed at such unaccountable and arbitrary pro- 
ceedings as they have lately learned from a copy of 
the deed made by the Six Nations with Sir William 
Johnson and the commissioners from this Colony 
[Virginia] at Fort Stanwix in the year 1768, that the 
said lands were included in the cession or grant of all 
that tract which lies on the south side of the river 
Ohio, beginning at the mouth of Cherokee or Hogo- 
hege River [the Tennessee] and extending up the 
said river to Kettaning [on the Allegheny River]. 
And, as in the preamble of the said deed, the said 
confederate Indians declare the Cherokee River to 
be their true boundary v^ith the southard Indians, 
your petitioners may with great reason doubt the 
validity of the purchase that those Proprietors have 
made of the Cherokees — the only title they set up 
to the lands for which they demand such extravagant 
sums from your petitioners, without any other as- 
surance for holding them than their own deed and 
warrant; a poor security, as your petitioners humbly 
apprehend, for the money that, among other new 
and unreasonable regulations, these Proprietors in- 
sist shall be paid down on the delivery of the deed. 

"And, as we have the greatest reason to presume 



148 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

that His Majesty, to whom the lands were deeded 
by the Six Nations for a valuable consideration, will 
vindicate his title, and think himself at hberty to 
grant them to such persons and on such terms as he 
pleases, your petitioners would, in consequence thereof, 
be turned out of possession or obliged to purchase 
their lands and improvements on such terms as the 
new grantee or proprietor might think fit to impose; 
so that we cannot help regarding the demand of Mr. 
Henderson and his Company as highly unjust and 
impolitic, in the infant state of the settlement, as well 
as greatly injurious to your petitioners, who would 
cheerfully have paid the consideration at first stip- 
ulated by the Company, whenever their grant had 
been confirmed by the Crown, or otherwise authenti- 
cated by the supreme legislature. 

"And, as we are anxious to concur in every respect 
with our brethren of the United Colonies, for our just 
rights and privileges, as far as our infant settlement 
and remote situation will admit of, we humbly expect 
and implore to be taken under the protection of the 
honorable Convention of the Colony of Virginia, of 
which we cannot help thinking ourselves still a part, 
and request your kind interposition in our behalf, 
that we may not suffer under the rigorous demands 
and impositions of the gentlemen styling themselves 
Proprietors, who, the better to effect their oppressive 
designs, have given them the color of a law, enacted 



The Passing of Transylvania 149 

by a score of men, artfully picked from the few ad- 
venturers who went to see the country last summer, 
overawed by the presence of Mr. Henderson. 

"And that you would take such measures as your 
honors in your wisdom shall judge most expedient 
for restoring peace and harmony in our divided 
settlement; or, if your honors apprehend that our 
cause comes more properly before the honorable 
the General Congress, that you would in your good- 
ness recommend the same to your worthy delegates 
to espouse it as the cause of the Colony. And your 
petitioners will ever, etc." * 

The reference to the "score of men artfully picked" 
was hardly compHmentary to the Transylvania House 
of Delegates, nor was it altogether candid, seeing 
that the foremost signer of the memorial, James 
Harrod, was himself a member of the House of Dele- 
gates. But it cannot be denied that the memorialists 
had good cause for grievance, and it is no less certain 
that in putting their names to their petition they 
signed the death warrant of Transylvania. 

Henderson, hearing that they had appealed to the 
Convention, knew that the long-dreaded day of 
battle had dawned, and hastened to submit a counter- 
memorial in behalf of the Company. This was about 
the middle of June, 1776, and even while he was 
writing it the insurgent Transylvanians were taking 

^ From the "Journal of the Virginia Convention," 



150 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

a decisive step to repudiate their allegiance. Begin- 
ning June 6 an eight-day election was held at Harrods- 
town for the choosing of two delegates to the Virginia 
Convention from "West Fincastle," as Harrod and 
his associates now designated Transylvania. The 
choice fell on George Rogers Clark and John Gabriel 
Jones, who soon set out for Williamsburg, at that 
time the capital of the Old Dominion, bearing with 
them a second petition in which the Proprietors were 
attacked more bitterly than before, and the Con- 
vention was urged to organize "West Fincastle'' 
as a county of Virginia. 

Before Clark and Jones reached Williamsburg 
the Convention had adjourned after having ap- 
pointed a commission to take evidence and report on 
the validity of the Company's title to Transylvania. 
Henderson, at bay, fought desperately for a favorable 
verdict, but all his efforts were unavailing. His last 
chance for success may be said to have been blotted 
out with the adoption, by the Continental Congress, 
of the Declaration of Independence. Under the 
new order of things there was no room whatever for 
a proprietary government on the soil of America. 
December, 1776, during the first session of the 
recently created State Legislature of Virginia, an 
act was passed organizing Kentucky County out of 
the domain destined at no distant day to blossom 
into the State of Kentucky, and including within the 



i 



The Passing of Transylvania 151 

boundaries of the new county the delectable realm 
which Henderson had bought from the Cherokees. 
With this act Transylvania became only a memory, 
and the ambitious project of the Transylvania part- 
ners was ended forevermore. 

Virginia, however, did not condemn them to suffer 
utter loss. Nov. 4, 1778, the House of Delegates 
resolved that "as the said Richard Henderson and 
Company have been at very great expense in making 
the said purchase and in settling the said lands — 
by which this Commonwealth is likely to receive great 
advantages, by increasing its inhabitants and estab- 
lishing a barrier against the Indians — it is just 
and reasonable to allow the said Richard Henderson 
and Company a compensation for their trouble and 
expense." Acting on this resolution, the Virginia 
General Assembly voted the Proprietors a grant of 
two hundred thousand acres of land in Kentucky, 
and a similar grant was subsequently made to them 
by North Carolina, whose limits embraced a portion 
of the Cherokee cession. Strangely enough, while 
not spurning these donations Henderson refused 
to acknowledge defeat, and long nursed the vain 
hope that he would in some way regain the vast 
region thus wrested from him. We shall once 
more encounter him, somewhat chastened by his 
Transylvania experiences, but still aggressively keen 
for power and for wealth. » 



152 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

In Transylvania — or what had been Transyl- 
vania — there were few who felt any sympathy for 
the luckless Proprietors. But Daniel Boone was one 
of the few. He saw in Henderson not a grasping, 
law-defying land speculator, but the good angel who 
had enabled him to make his home in the land of his 
heart's desire. And however strongly he resented 
and deplored the avaricious poHcy of Henderson's 
Company, he was not ingrate enough to forget the 
generous gift its members had made to him in reward 
for his road-building. 

At the moment, however, not even Boone could 
spare much thought to the misfortunes of the Tran- 
sylvania Proprietors. For by the time the Blue Grass 
settlements learned of Virginia's decision, their 
people were in the midst of war's alarms. 



CHAPTER X 

WAR-TIME IN KENTUCKY 

THE Struggle between the red man and the white 
for possession of Kentucky began in the sum- 
mer of 1776, with a dramatic prelude. One 
July afternoon three girls — Jemima, the second 
daughter of Daniel Boone, and Elizabeth and Fanny, 
the daughters of Boone's old friend and fellow-road- 
maker, Richard Callaway — left Boonesborough for 
a boat-ride on the Kentucky. It was a warm day, 
and the girls, whose ages ranged from fourteen to 
sixteen, after paddling a short distance from the fort, 
allowed their canoe to drift idly with the current, 
which gradually carried them towards the opposite 
bank. They had no thought of danger, for not an 
Indian had been seen near Boonesborough since the 
McQuinney-Saunders affair of the previous winter. 
As ill luck would have it, however, a party of young 
warriors, refusing to abide longer by the treaty 
forced upon them at the conclusion of Lord Dun- 
more's War, had left the Shawnee towns only a few 
days before, and had crossed the Ohio into Kentucky, 
with the intention of dispersing through the settle- 

153 



154 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

ments and inflicting what damage they could. Five 
of these Indians, bedecked in war-plumes and hideous 
in war-paint, had approached Boonesborough unob- 
served, and were in hiding near the river's edge at 
a point where the current carried the drifting canoe 
close to shore. 

As it swept towards the bushes among which they 
lay concealed, one of them slipped noiselessly into the 
water, waded out, and, almost before the terrified 
girls reahzed his purpose, drew their frail craft within 
reach of his companions. Tradition has it that the 
oldest girl, Elizabeth Callaway, made a brave re- 
sistance, using her paddle as a weapon, and with it 
gashing an Indian's head to the bone. But she was 
quickly disarmed and dragged up the river-bank to 
where her sister and Jemima Boone, still shrieking 
with fear and horror, had already been carried. 

By gestures more expressive than any words could 
have been, the Indians bade them cease their cries 
and save their strength for the long march to the 
Shawnee towns, threatening instant death to them if 
they faltered on the way. The girls knew that this 
was no idle threat, for they had often heard of the 
ruthlessness with which Indians when returning 
from a successful raid were wont to slaughter, with- 
out regard to sex or age, any captive unable to keep 
up with the swift pace they usually set. Stifling their 
sobs, they followed the Shawnees without a murmur 



I 



War-time in Kentucky 155 

through clover field and prairie meadow, cane-brake 
and maple grove, every step carrying them farther 
from home. 

But, with a resourcefulness that proved them true 
daughters of pioneer fathers and mothers, they 
stealthily endeavored to leave a well-marked trail for 
those who they felt certain would soon be speeding 
to their rescue. Wherever the ground was at all soft, 
they trod heavily in it, and at every opportunity they 
secretly tore from their clothing little pieces of 
cloth which they fastened to the thorny bushes of the 
surrounding undergrowth. 

It was late in the afternoon before they were missed 
and the cause of their disappearance made known to 
the people of Boonesborough through discovery of 
the empty canoe and the marks of the struggle on the 
river-bank. Two parties of settlers at once started 
in hot pursuit. One, consisting of a dozen or more 
mounted men under Richard Callaway, headed 
direct to the Licking River, hoping to intercept the 
Shawnees at the ford of the lower Blue Lick. The 
other party, smaller and on foot, followed their trail 
from the Kentucky. It was led by Boone and John 
Floyd, who had left St. Asaph and was then living 
at Boonesborough, and it included five other men, 
three of whom — Richard Henderson's brother 
Samuel, Richard Callaway's son Flanders, and John 
Holder — were in love with the captured girls. 



156 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Darkness overtook them before they had gone more 
than five miles, but at dawn the pursuit was renewed. 
That day they covered thirty miles, noting with sat- 
isfaction the torn fragments of cloth, which told them 
that the girls were keeping up their strength and 
courage. 

Early next morning, after travelling two miles more, 
which brought them within two or three miles of the 
upper Blue Lick, Boone and his companions noticed 
a thin line of smoke curHng upwards through the air. 
Advancing cautiously, so that the Indians should not 
be aware of their presence in time to tomahawk the 
helpless captives, they soon came upon the Shawnees 
grouped about a fire at which they were cooking 
buffalo meat for breakfast. A little distance off sat 
Elizabeth Callaway, with her sister and Jemima 
Boone on the ground beside her, their heads resting 
in her lap. 

It was evident that the Indians imagined they had 
thrown off all pursuit, and no less evident that the 
younger girls were thoroughly exhausted and could 
not possibly travel much farther. At a signal from 
Boone the pursuers closed in upon the encampment. 
But let one of them — John Floyd — tell the story 
of the rescue in his own words, as he afterwards 
described it in a letter to his friend. Colonel William 
Preston of Virginia. 

"We discovered each other nearly at the same 



War-time in Kentucky 157 

time," Floyd wrote to Preston, "four of us fired, 
and all rushed on them, which prevented them from 
carrying away anything except one shot-gun without 
ammunition. Mr. Boone and myself had a pretty 
fair shot just as they began to move off. I am well 
convinced I shot one through, and the one he shot 
dropped his gun ; mine had none. The place was 
very thick with canes, and being so much elated on 
recovering the three broken-hearted little girls, 
prevented our making further search. We sent them 
off without their moccasins, and not one of them 
with so much as a knife or tomahawk." ^ 

Whatever idea the settlers may have had that this 
was a solitary outrage similar to the December inci- 
dent, was dispelled shortly after the rescuers returned 
to Boonesborough. Besides the original four settle- 
ments of Transylvania, the country to the north as 
well as to the south of the Kentucky had by this time 
become dotted with stations and single cabins put up 

^ Samuel Henderson married his sweetheart, the plucky Eliza- 
beth Callaway, three weeks later, this being the first marriage in 
Kentucky. Some interesting details have been preserved. The 
ceremony took place in a Boonesborough cabin, Daniel Boone 
officiating by virtue of having been commissioned a justice of the 
peace. There was dancing to fiddle music by the light of buffalo 
tallow candles, and the guests were treated to the first watermelons 
grown at Boonesborough. At a later date Flanders Callaway be- 
came the husband of Jemima Boone, and John Holder, who devel- 
oped into a redoubtable Indian fighter, married Fanny Callaway. 



158 Daniel Boone 'and the Wilderness Road 

by '* improvers" from the frontiers of Pennsylvania, 
Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina. Mc- 
Clelland's Station on the Elkhorn, Hinkson's Station 
on the Licking, and Huston's Station on the site of 
the present-day Paris were the most important set- 
tlements between the Kentucky and the Ohio. 

South of the Kentucky the greatest activity was 
in the country about Harrodstown and Boiling 
Spring, and along Logan's Branch of the Wilderness 
Road. The Transylvanians themselves had spread 
out for many miles, some, like the McAfees, uniting 
to lay the foundations of new settlements, and others, 
among whom was Michael Stoner, the companion of 
Boone's memorable ride to the Falls of the Ohio, 
removing in little groups of three or four to spy out 
the land and build homes in particularly desirable 
locations. 

Now, in July of 1776, fugitives came flying from 
every quarter to the larger settlements, bringing 
with them dismal tidings of Indian depredations. 
Men had been murdered, horses and cattle stolen, 
buildings burned. On the very day that Boone and 
Floyd arrived with the rescued girls, a party of fugi- 
tives from Hinkson's Station galloped into Boones- 
borough, stayed overnight, and in the morning 
started for Virginia by way of the Wilderness Road, 
taking with them ten of the inhabitants of Boones- 
borough, whom they had infected with their panic. 



War-time in Kentucky 159 

They were soon followed by others, despite the en- 
treaties of Boone, Callaway, Harrod, Logan, and 
kindred fearless souls, who refused to flee, and 
labored day and night to strengthen their defences. 

To add to the general alarm, word was received 
that the Cherokees had attacked the Watauga settle- 
ments and purposed, if successful, moving northward 
into Kentucky. This was the signal for a fresh panic 
and a still greater exodus across the mountains. But 
not all could go, and not all wished to go, and many 
of those who did wish themselves well out of Kentucky 
felt that duty constrained them to remain. 

"I want to return as much as any man can do,'' 
Floyd candidly confessed to his friend Preston, "but 
if I leave the country now, there is scarcely one single 
man who will not follow the example. When I think 
of the deplorable condition a few helpless families 
are likely to be in, I conclude to sell my life as dearly 
as I can in their defence rather than make an igno- 
minious escape." In the sad years that followed 
many a man and woman had occasion to bless John 
Floyd for this noble resolution.* 

^ Floyd, however, was not in Kentucky throughout its seven 
years of almost perpetual warfare. He had been appointed offi- 
cial surveyor for the Transylvania Company, and in the autumn of 
1776 Henderson summoned him to Williamsburg, where he re- 
mained until the Virginia Legislature passed the act absorbing 
Transylvania. He then fitted out a privateer to destroy British 



i6o Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Had the Shawnees taken advantage of the demora- 
lized condition into which the Kentuckians were 
thrown by their unexpected appearance, there is 
every reason to believe that they could have wiped 
out the settlements, and put a stop to westward ex- 
pansion until after the War for Independence, besides 
clearing the way for the British, with whom they 
later became aUied, to deliver deadly rear attacks 
against the insurgent colonists. But instead of 
concentrating their efforts in successive assaults upon 
the stations where those who remained had taken 
refuge, — Boonesborough, Harrodstown, and Mc- 
Clelland's, — they contented themselves throughout 
the summer and autumn in roaming about the coun- 
try, destroying the deserted settlements and cabins, 
and slaying all who happened to fall into their hands. 
This gave the pioneers a breathing space, enabled 
them to mature plans for defence, lay in supplies, and 

shipping, and did considerable damage before being made a pris- 
oner of war. Escaping after a year's imprisonment, he was smug- 
gled across the English Channel to France, where, it is said, Ben- 
jamin Franklin supplied him with means to reach Virginia. Once 
in America again, he hurried back to Kentucky, did splendid ser- 
vice under George Rogers Clark, and by his daring became known 
throughout the West. In April, 1783, while riding with his brother 
Charles, he was shot from ambush by an Indian and died a few 
hours afterwards, at the early age of thirty-three. He was a splen- 
did specimen of the American pioneer, and should find a place in 
any gallery of portraits of heroes of the early West. 



War-time in Kentucky l6l 

despatch messengers to Williamsburg, imploring aid 
from Virginia. 

Had it not been for the presence of George Rogers 
Clark in Williamsburg it seems altogether likely 
that these messengers would have found their journey 
fruitless, for the Virginians were so preoccupied 
with the urgent problems raised by the War for Inde- 
pendence that they at first paid scant attention to the 
frantic appeals of the men from the West. But 
when Clark heard of the danger threatening his 
fellow-Transylvanians, the situation rapidly changed. 

Clark, it will be remembered, had been elected a 
delegate with John Gabriel Jones to state the case of 
the Transylvanians against Richard Henderson and 
Company. Imperious, impetuous, and forceful, he 
had all along taken the position that Transylvania 
should approach Virginia in an independent, not a 
suppliant, spirit, and when he discovered that the 
authorities were disposed to let the Westerners shift 
for themselves, he adopted a tone of haughty defi- 
ance. If Transylvania, he said in effect, were not 
worth saving, it was not worth claiming, and if it were 
compelled to save itself, it assuredly would not ac- 
knowledge Virginia's sovereignty. 

The threat had the desired result. Late in the 
summer an initial supply of powder and lead was 
sent to Boone, — thus tacitly recognized as com- 
mander-in-chief of the defending forces, — and a 



i62 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

further grant of five hundred pounds of powder was 
afterwards made, which Clark and Jones undertook 
to carry by flatboat down the Ohio. 

Accompanied only by seven daredevil borderers, 
who readily engaged to serve as boatmen, notwith- 
standing that the Indians were known to be keeping 
a close watch on the river, they set out from Pitts- 
burg and after many adventures landed their precious 
cargo on an island not far from the site of the modern 
Maysville, hiding it in the woods until they could get 
help in carrying it to the settlements. 

On every side, as they struck cautiously across 
country, they found evidences of the blight that had 
fallen on Kentucky, and they frequently had proof 
— in the way of smouldering camp-fires and fresh 
trails — that war-parties were even then hovering 
about. But by dint of the woodcraft in which most 
of them were masters, they avoided detection and 
reached McClelland's Station, the only occupied 
settlement north of the Kentucky River. Here, per- 
haps for the first time, Clark met a man scarcely 
less famous than Daniel Boone in the camp-fire talk 
of the border. 

This was Simon Kenton, only twenty-one years old, 
but already renowned as guide, scout, and Indian 
fighter — a fair-haired giant of six feet, with nerves 
of steel and the sunniest of dispositions. Like so 
many of the makers of the early West, Kenton was 




Simon Kenton 

From painting by Lewis Morgan, owned by Colonel Reuben T. Durrett 



War-time in Kentucky 163 

Virginia born, and of the restless, aggressive Scotch- 
Irish stock. He had fled from his native settlement 
when a lad of sixteen, in consequence of a hand-to- 
hand frontier duel in which he left for dead his suc- 
cessful rival in a youthful love afi^air. 

From that time forward he had been an adventur- 
ous, danger-defying wanderer in the wilds of western 
Pennsylvania and Virginia, penetrating as far as the 
mouth of the Kentucky. During Lord Dunmore's 
War he acted as a spy for both Lord Dunmore and 
Andrew Lewis, the conqueror of Point Pleasant, and 
earned the venomous hatred of the Indians for the 
skill with which he gained information of their 
movements and intentions. After the war he defi- 
nitely removed to Kentucky, clearing land and build- 
ing a cabin near Maysville at about the time the 
foundations of Boonesborough were being laid in the 
Blue Grass country farther south. He is credited 
with having raised the first crop of corn planted and 
harvested by white men in northern Kentucky. 

The winter of 1775-76 he passed at Hinkson's 
Station on the Licking, and when that settlement was 
abandoned, owing to the outbreakof Indian hostilities, 
he removed to McClelland's. As in Lord Dunmore's 
War he was now employed to spy on the Indians, 
and many pioneers owed their lives to the vigilance 
with which he tracked marauding parties of red men 
and brought timely warning of their approach. 



164 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Besides Kenton, Clark found at McClelland's 
only half a dozen fighting men, or too few to provide 
a sufficiently strong escort for the ammunition. It 
was arranged that Kenton should pilot him to Har- 
rodstown for reenforcements, while Jones and the 
boatmen remained at McClelland's, pending their 
return. Had this programme been followed all 
would have been well. As it was, the departure of 
Clark and Kenton was the signal for a display of 
rashness that led to the first pitched battle and the 
first serious reverse of the Indian wars in Kentucky. 

Possibly because he wished to enhance his repu- 
tation for courage, possibly because he underesti- 
mated the fighting qualities of the foe, Jones per- 
suaded the boatmen and some of the people of 
McClelland's to join him in an immediate attempt 
to bring in the hidden powder. As was too often the 
case at that time, no precautions were taken to guard 
against a surprise; no scouts were sent ahead, no 
watch kept for unusual sights and sounds that might 
indicate the presence of an enemy. Yet from the 
moment Jones and his escort left the protecting pali- 
sades of the settlement their every step was dogged, 
and when they halted for the noonday meal, the 
lurking foe silently stole ahead to lie in ambush for 
them. 

Jones was the first to perish, falling dead with a 
bullet in his heart; a second man was killed, and 



War-time in Kentucky 165 

two others were taken prisoners to undergo the lin- 
gering tortures of death at the stake. The rest, 
cutting their way through the living wall that sought 
to bar them from safety, fled back to McClelland's, 
whence a messenger was soon speeding to Harrods- 
town, carrying the tale of folly and disaster and an 
urgent appeal for help. 

In response, Clark, Kenton, and a number of 
volunteers hastened to the station on the Elkhorn, 
drove off the Indians after a fight in which several 
whites were killed, and in the opening days of the new 
year secured the powder which had been the cause of 
so much bloodshed, and distributed it among the de- 
fenders of Boonesborough and Harrodstown, McClel- 
land's Station being abandoned because of its remote 
location from the Transylvania settlements. 

Now the war entered into a new phase, and one of 
far more serious import to the brave men and women 
who were so desperately striving to maintain their 
foothold in Kentucky. Beginning with the early 
spring of i ^^^^ not only the Shawnees, but many other 
tribes abandoned all pretence of neutrality in the con- 
flict between the colonists and the mother country, 
and openly sided with the latter, being spurred to 
bloody aggression by the rich presents and glowing 
promises of Henry Hamilton, the British lieutenant- 
governor of the Northwestern region, whose head- 
quarters were at Detroit. 



1 66 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

It no longer was safe for even fairly strong parties 
of settlers to move about Kentucky, and all travel in 
and out of the country, whether along the Wilderness 
Road or by the Ohio River, came practically to an 
end. In the single year 1777 Harrodstown was 
besieged three times and Boonesborough twice, and 
when free from open attack, both places were so 
closely invested that, in the daytime at all events, it 
was next to impossible for the settlers to enter or 
leave the stockades. Thus besides severing the 
slender threads of communication which united the 
Kentucky settlements with the settlements of the 
East, hundreds of miles away, the Indians frequently 
succeeded in isolating Boonesborough and Harrods- 
town from each other, although they were less than 
fifty miles apart. 

So serious did the situation become, owing to a 
shortage in the food supply, that hunters like Kenton 
and Boone were obhged to creep out after night-fall, 
travel long distances before venturing to seek game, 
and await the return of darkness in order to be able 
to smuggle in the food thus stealthily won. It was in 
very truth a starvation-time in Kentucky, Yet when 
the opportunity offered, as it did more than once, 
for the settlers to take their wives and children and 
follow those who had fled to safety the previous year, 
they stubbornly refused to leave. 

"Brother," a chieftain had prophetically told 



i 



War-time in Kentucky 167 

Boone, at the signing of the Sycamore Shoals Treaty, 
"it is a fine land we sell to you, but I fear you will 
find it hard to hold/' They were finding it hard to 
hold, but they had resolved to hold it at any cost. 

Heroes and heroines all of them, this first year of 
systematic warfare was marked by many romantic 
episodes bringing out in clear relief the innate great- 
ness of the men and women who faced the tawny 
aUies of the British in the border battles of the Revo- 
lution. As striking an instance as any occurred dur- 
ing a siege of St. Asaph, which had been reoccupied 
in February by the courageous Benjamin Logan and 
was now better known as Logan's Fort than by the 
name it had borne when Transylvania was in its 
prime. 

One morning, about the middle of May, the women 
of the station were milking outside the stockade, pro- 
tected by a small detachment from the garrison, 
which did not number more than fifteen men all told. 
During the night a force of Shawnees had concealed 
themselves in a near-by cane-brake, and at the first 
favorable moment they fired upon the guard. One 
man was killed outright and two were wounded, one 
of whom succeeded in escaping to the stockade, 
where the women had instantly taken refuge, while 
the other. Burr Harrison, after running a few yards, 
fell to the ground completely disabled. From a 
cabin port-hole his wife beheld him lying helpless, 



1 68 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and in a frenzy of grief begged that he be rescued 
before the Indians should rush up and despatch him. 

For a moment no one answered her appeal. The 
Shawnees' first volley had reduced the effective force 
in the fort to twelve men, and it seemed madness to 
expose the survivors to further loss. But as she con- 
tinued to lament and wring her hands, Logan, 
always chivalrous and devoid of fear, called for volun- 
teers to aid him in an attempt to carry in the wounded 
man. One stepped forward, John Martin, and to- 
gether they threw open the stockade gate and leaped 
towards the groaning Harrison. 

Their appearance was the signal for a second volley 
from the Indians, who were still under cover. Ap- 
palled by the leaden hail, Martin turned and sprang 
back within the fort; but Logan, undaunted, dashed 
on alone, passed safely through the storm of bullets, 
lifted Harrison from the ground, threw him across his 
burly shoulders, and, scarcely slackening his speed 
beneath the heavy burden, beat a triumphant retreat 
to the stockade. 

Nor was this all. Unable to carry the fort by 
storm, or to "smoke out" its inmates by setting fire 
to it, the Indians settled down to a patient siege. 
Before long the defenders found themselves short of 
ammunition, with apparently no means of replen- 
ishing their supply, as both Harrodstown and Boones- 
borough were too hard pressed to spare either powder 



I 



War-time in Kentucky 169 

or lead. Again Logan rose to the occasion. Sad- 
dling the best horse he possessed, he slipped undis- 
covered through the enemy's lines, and made for the 
distant settlements of the Watauga country. 

It was impossible to travel by w^ay of the Wilder- 
ness Road, so closely were the Indians guarding it; 
and the alternative was a hazardous journey through 
a network of Indian trails and buffalo traces, in 
which even the best-trained woodsman might lose 
his way and perish. But Logan did not pause to 
contemplate the difficulties he would have to over- 
come. Riding each day from dawn until dark, 
fording streams, guiding his horse up and down 
rocky heights, crashing recklessly through brush- 
wood and cane-brake, he reached the hamlets on the 
Holston within a week, and within another week was 
back at his fort, bearing the glad assurance that an 
ammunition caravan was on the road and that a 
hundred mihtiamen from the Virginia frontier were 
hastening to the rehef of the beleaguered Kentucky 
stations. 

Simon Kenton was another who proved his sterling 
worth in that grim year 1777. Making his head- 
quarters at Boonesborough he spent most of his time 
in the open, flitting like a will-o'-the-wisp from one 
Indian camp to another, eavesdropping near the 
council-fire, and keeping the settlers thoroughly 
informed of the enemy's plans. Once, when for 



170 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

some reason he had been detained at Boonesborough, 
the Indians contrived to approach and attack it be- 
fore the defenders suspected their presence; but, as 
things turned out, this gave Kenton an opportunity 
of performing what was perhaps the most briUiant 
deed of his entire career. 

There were only twenty-two riflemen in Boones- 
borough at the time, while the attacking force com- 
prised from fifty to one hundred warriors. But, as 
was their custom, the Indians preferred to rely on 
strategy rather than on open assault, and most of 
them remained hidden in the weeds and long grass 
near the stockade, leaving a mere handful to act as a 
decoy in enticing the settlers to give chase to them. 
The trick was successful. Boone, Kenton, and a 
majority of the garrison rushed out in hot pursuit, 
and as soon as they were some little distance from 
the fort the Indians in hiding rose to cut off their 
retreat. 

Realizing the nature of the trap into which they 
had fallen, Boone shouted to his men to wheel about 
and make a dash for the gate, firing as they ran. A 
minute more, and they were in deadly hand-to-hand 
conflict. Isaac Hite, John Todd, Michael Stoner, 
and other notables of the early Transylvania days 
fell, more or less seriously wounded; and with them 
fell Boone, his leg broken by a bullet. 

Whooping in triumph at the thought that the noted 



War-time in Kentucky 171 

"Captain Boone" was in his power, a tall, sinewy 
brave sprang at him with uplifted tomahawk. Ken- 
ton, who had been fighting valiantly, and had already 
killed two Indians, chanced to catch a glimpse of the 
impending tragedy — - saw Boone half-prostrate on 
the ground, his arm raised above his head to ward off 
the death-stroke. With lightning-Hke rapidity Ken- 
ton turned, raised his rifle, pressed it against the war- 
rior's breast, and discharged it. Then, stooping, he 
lifted Boone and bore him swiftly to the fort; after- 
wards returning to plunge into the fight once more. 

When the battle was over, and the Indians had 
been driven off, Boone sent for Kenton and knighted 
him in backwoods fashion. "Well, Simon,'* said 
he, "you have behaved like a man — you are a fine 
fellow." Few words and simple words, but coming 
from such a source they amounted to a certificate of 
merit which would forever establish Kenton's reputa- 
tion. 

For Boone's preeminence in the defence of Ken- 
tucky was by this time universally recognized. His 
readiness to encounter danger, his resourcefulness in 
surmounting the greatest obstacles, — he even learned 
the art of making gunpowder, — and his constant 
cheerfulness endeared him to all and made him the 
inspiration of all. In the words of one well ac- 
quainted with his career, he was looked upon as an 
oracle, whose every utterance was to be obeyed. 



172 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

It would be quite incorrect, though, to describe 
Boone as a great military genius. He was not that. 
His distinction lay in the fact that he was supremely 
equipped to conduct operations in the kind of war- 
fare in which the Kentuckians were then engaged. 
He knew the red man and the red man's ways, and 
besides being a splendid fighter he was the peer of 
the most wily chieftain in cunning and dissimulation. 
Other things being equal, he could be depended on 
to beat the Indian at his own game as could no other 
borderer of his generation, with the possible excep- 
tion of Simon Kenton. 

But he was deficient in one quality without which 
no commander may hope to excel — the penetrating 
vision, almost equivalent to prescience, that impels 
to drastic, far-reaching action in a time of crisis. 
Superb in defensive fighting, he was less conspicuous 
when the occasion demanded a vigorous offence. 
For this reason he was eventually overshadowed, from 
the military point of view, by the man who had 
dragooned the authorities of Virginia into lending 
the Kentuckians a helping hand — George Rogers 
Clark. 



CHAPTER XI 

THE CAMPAIGNING OF GEORGE ROGERS CLARK 

WHILE Boone was battling with bull-dog 
tenacity at the settlement that bore his name, 
Clark was at Harrodstown, rendering mag- 
nificent assistance in the defence of that station and 
carefully maturing a plan whereby he hoped to put an 
end for all time to the Indian invasions. 

As yet it was not generally known that the continual 
struggle with the Indians had its origin in anything 
other than the natural wrath of the savages at the 
loss of their favorite hunting-grounds. But Clark, 
a man of the broadest imagination and the keenest 
insight, intuitively understood that the true source 
of hostilities was to be found in the adverse influence 
radiating from the Northwestern forts and trading- 
stations which had been established by the French as 
part of their scheme for New World empire, and 
now were British possessions. 

He rightly suspected that all of them — and es- 
pecially Detroit in western Canada, and Kaskaskia 
and Vincennes in the IlHnois country — were hot- 

173 



174 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

beds in which the seeds of Indian hatred for the 
American borderers were assiduously cultivated. 
Could these posts but be wrested from the British, 
the problem of persuading or compelling the Indians 
to maintain peace would be greatly simplified, for 
they would be deprived of the moral and material 
support of their white allies. 

Moreover, as Clark saw it, the conquest of the 
country north of the Ohio was absolutely essential to 
the saving of Kentucky. Thus far the Kentuckians 
had held their ground, with practically no outside 
assistance; nor could they reasonably expect much 
aid, so great were the demands made upon the East- 
ern settlements by the exigencies of the protracted 
War for Independence. Yet without aid, or without 
a respite from the grinding pressure of the Indian 
onslaughts, the pioneers would in time be worn out, 
and would have to surrender or retreat. This would 
mean the complete abandonment of Kentucky, and 
its abandonment would mean the exposure of the 
entire Virginia frontier to the tomahawk, the scalp- 
ing-knife, and the torch. 

In this fact Clark saw his only chance for putting 
into execution an ambitious project that gradually 
took shape in his mind during the spring and summer 
of 1777. He would again visit WiUiamsburg, would 
depict to the men at the head of affairs the horrors 
certain to overwhelm border Virginia unless British 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 175 

activity among the Indians were checked, and would 
himself undertake to check it by the conquest of the 
Northwestern posts — which, as he would make it a 
point to remind the authorities, were situated in a 
region long claimed by Virginia under the terms of 
her all-embracing charter, and which would thus 
become doubly Virginia's by right of charter and by 
right of conquest. All that he should require would 
be official authorization for the organizing of an ex- 
pedition, and money to finance it. Everything else, 
from the recruiting to the fighting, he would engage 
to carry through without Virginia's aid. 
• He would march first of all against Kaskaskia, as 
being most conveniently located for attack from 
Kentucky; when Kaskaskia had fallen, he would 
assail the more northerly Cahokia and Vincennes 
and afterwards, as circumstances permitted, faraway 
Detroit. It might be objected that the way to Kas- 
kaskia, Cahokia, and Vincennes lay through trackless 
forests and tangled prairies, by quagmires and over 
rushing streams — a country, in fine, of the most 
difficult travel, and teeming with bitterly hostile 
tribesmen. Clark would airily wave his hand, and 
assure the sceptical Virginians that all this was of 
small importance — the men of his army would be 
men whom nothing could daunt and nothing defeat. 
It was a dream such as could be conceived only by 
a rash, reckless adventurer, or by a man of true 



176 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

genius, certain of his ability to command success. 
Clark was no mere adventurer. When his vision of 
conquest first began to assume definite form, he 
calmly set about ascertaining its feasibility. He took 
no one into his confidence, — excepting possibly 
Simon Kenton and James Harrod, with both of 
whom he was on the most intimate terms, — but sent 
for two young frontiersmen and employed them to 
visit the Illinois country in the guise of hunters and 
traders, examine its resources and defences, and in 
particular discover the sentiments of the inhabitants 
of Kaskaskia, Cahokia, and Vincennes with respect 
to the contest between Great Britain and the Ameri- 
can colonies. Most of the people of these three set- 
tlements were French or of French descent, and it 
was Clark's hope that they would at most prove 
lukewarm in their British allegiance, and would 
offer no very serious opposition if an American force 
were sent against them. 

The report brought back by his spies confirmed 
this idea. The commandants and garrisons of the 
Illinois posts, they informed him, were loyal to the 
British interest, and took every opportunity of incit- 
ing the Indians to depredations in Kentucky. But 
most of the inhabitants — a care-free, easy-going 
Creole population, whose life was made up chiefly 
of feasting and dancing — viewed the struggle with 
entire indifference, heedless which side won as long 



I 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 177 

as their butterfly existence was not disturbed. They 
had been taught, however, to regard the American 
backwoodsmen as devils in human form, far more 
cruel than any Indian; a piece of news that was not 
unwelcome to Clark, since he readily perceived how 
he might profit from it by working on the fears of 
the French and then gaining their affection by un- 
expected leniency. 

Satisfied that he was not attempting the impos- 
sible, he left Harrodstown on October i, 1777, and 
after a tedious journey over the Wilderness Road 
and across the mountains of southwestern Virginia, 
reached Williamsburg early in November. The 
fiery Patrick Henry — another Scotch-Irishman, and 
not unhke Clark in vigor, audacity, and sweep of 
imagination — was then governor of Virginia, and 
listened with rapt enthusiasm when the Kentuckian 
sought him out and unfolded the details of his daring 
plan. But, Henry declared, Virginia's means were 
exhausted, she could spare neither troops nor money 
for even so promising an enterprise. 

With the persistence characteristic of the men of 
the West — and without which they could never have 
won the West — Clark plied him with new arguments, 
fervid entreaties. The ardent Henry, willingly per- 
suaded but at a loss to know how he could further 
Clark's desires, turned for advice to some trusty 
counsellors — Thomas Jefferson, George Mason, 



178 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and George Wythe. They, too, were won over by 
the Kentuckian's eloquence, his air of confidence, his 
tone of certitude. 

Secrecy being indispensable for the success of the 
enterprise, — since, if an inkling of Clark's intentions 
got abroad, messengers would be hurried by the 
British to put the Illinois commandants on their 
guard, — it was arranged that the sum of twelve 
hundred pounds should be privately advanced to 
him, and that he should be given two sets of instruc- 
tions by Governor Henry. One of these, intended 
to be made public, simply authorized him to raise 
three hundred and fifty mihtiamen for the defence of 
Kentucky; the other, contained in a private letter, 
directed him to march against the posts in the North- 
west. He was also given the commission of colonel. 

So much time had been consumed by these nego- 
tiations that it was not until the end of January, 1778, 
that Clark was able to begin the task of raising his 
httle army. He knew that he could not look for 
many recruits from among his fellow-Kentuckians, 
because no matter how strongly they might desire 
to serve under him they would be obhged to stay at 
home and protect the settlements; and accordingly 
he sought for followers from among the people of 
the less exposed frontier region of the AUeghanies. 
Even there he found the greatest difficulty in secur- 
ing volunteers, such was the dread of an Indian in- 



iH 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 179 

vasion, and in the end he was obHged to set out ac- 
companied by a force of only one hundred and fifty 
— most of them, however, men Hke himself, strong- 
limbed, quick-witted, and of lion's courage and 
endurance. 

Voyaging down the Ohio in flatboats, and main- 
taining a constant watch to prevent a surprise from 
the Indian-infested forest through which the noble 
river flowed, the expedition safely reached the Falls 
of the Ohio, May 27, 1778. Here Clark landed and 
built a fort, and here his following was strengthened 
by the arrival of Simon Kenton and several other Ken- 
tuckians, as well as a company of volunteers who had 
marched over the Wilderness Road from the settle- 
ments of southwestern Virginia. 

Now, for the first time, the true purpose of the 
enterprise was disclosed to the backwoods army. 
There were a few who deserted rather than hazard 
their lives in what they regarded as a mad and suici- 
dal business. But the great majority hailed it with 
enthusiasm, and swore to follow Clark wherever he 
might see fit to lead them. To increase their en- 
thusiasm came news of the French Alliance, which 
they at once interpreted as rendering easier the task 
of pacifying the inhabitants of the old French posts. 
June 24, work on the fort having been completed, 
they once more embarked and voyaged swiftly down 
the Ohio to a point a few miles below the mouth of 



i8o Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

the Tennessee. The boats were now abandoned, and 
a march begun in a northwesterly direction. 

Kaskaskia, which Clark intended attacking first, 
stood in the angle formed by the juncture of the river 
of that name with the Mississippi ; and it would have 
been much easier to have made the entire journey by 
water. But Clark rightly feared discovery if he 
attempted to ascend the Mississippi; and, in fact, 
he learned from some American hunters, whom 
chance brought to his camp on the lower Ohio, that 
the French commandant at Kaskaskia had been 
warned that some hostile move was contemplated 
against that town, and had posted a number of sen- 
tinels on the banks of the Mississippi to sound an 
immediate alarm at the approach of any armed 
force. Besides giving him this valuable information, 
the hunters offered to guide Clark to Kaskaskia by 
the shortest possible overland route. 

Scouts were sent ahead, both to kill game for pro- 
visions and to make sure that no wandering French- 
man or Indian should escape with tidings of the 
coming of the invaders. Not an ounce of superflu- 
ous baggage was taken along, and not a man lagged 
behind when once the command to start had been 
given, as every one realized that the only chance for 
success lay in arriving at their destination in time 
to catch the garrison unawares. Progress was slow, 
however, for forty or fifty miles, as the country was 



1 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark i8i 

heavily timbered, with a dense undergrowth through 
which a trail had to be cut; and after entering the 
open prairies that stretched to the north of the forest, 
some delay was caused by the principal guide losing 
the way. But just at sunset of July 4 Clark and 
his weary but undaunted followers — they had 
marched the last two days "without sustenance" — 
found themselves on the bank of the Kaskaskia, about 
three miles above the town. 

The mere fact that they had not been attacked 
was sufficient proof that their presence was still un- 
known to the garrison. Still, before giving battle, 
Clark wished to learn if possible the exact state of 
affairs. Leaving the main body to follow more 
leisurely, he pushed ahead with a small detachment 
until he reached a farm-house a mile or so from 
Kaskaskia. Its Creole occupants were at once made 
prisoners but treated kindly, and without much urg- 
ing they told him what he was anxious to learn. 

There were, it appeared, comparatively few Ind- 
ians at Kaskaskia, but a great many French, most 
of whom had been well armed and drilled by the 
commandant, an officer named Philippe de Roche- 
blave. The defences of the fort had been strength- 
ened, and repeated requests had been sent to Gov- 
ernor Hamilton at Detroit, begging him to reenforce 
the militia by a regiment of regulars. Thus far no 
reenforcements had arrived, and Rocheblave had 



1 82 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

latterly relaxed his vigilance, believing that the early 
rumors of an invasion must have been unfounded. 
It was quite possible that entrance might be gained 
not merely into the town, which stood to the north of 
the fort, but also into the fort itself, before any alarm 
would be given. Thus reassured, and guided by 
the Creoles, Clark marched his troops back to the 
river, where boats were found and a crossing effected. 
Night had set in, but the moon and stars gave 
light sufficient for a rapid advance. Just before 
reaching Kaskaskia, Clark again divided his "army," 
selecting twelve or fifteen to continue with him to the 
fort, and ordering the rest to disperse silently through 
the town in groups of four or five, ready to act as 
soon as they heard sounds of conflict. Both town 
and fort were in complete darkness,^ and the absence 
of sentinels testified to the feeling of security with 
which the inhabitants had gone to rest. But, as 
Clark and his little band drew near the fort gate, 

* Modern historical research seems to have completely demol- 
ished the romantic and well-known tradition in which Clark is 
represented as having arrived at Kaskaskia during the progress 
of a ball given by the officers of the fort and as having made his 
way unnoticed to the ball-room, where he grimly bade the revellers 
continue their dancing, "but to remember that they now danced 
under Virginia and not Great Britain." For a criticism of this 
legendary version, see Dr. Thwaites's "How George Rogers Clark 
won the Northwest." 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 183 

which luckily was open, some keen-scented watch- 
dogs set up a noisy howling. 

Undeterred, the Americans rushed in, made direct 
for Rocheblave's house, broke through the door, and 
captured the commandant in an upper room. With 
whoops of triumph — which served both to terrorize 
the bewildered and already panic-stricken garrison, 
and as a signal to the force in the town — they 
brought Rocheblave downstairs, placed him under 
guard, and then overpowered and disarmed his 
subordinate officers. Meanwhile, yelling like de- 
mons, their fellow- Virginians came thundering through 
the streets, shouting to the people to keep indoors. 
In fifteen minutes they were masters of Kaskaskia 
without the firing of a gun. 

That night there was no sleep for either the con- 
querors or the conquered. The frightened Creoles, 
huddled together in their homes, spent the hours 
until morning on their knees, praying that God 
would preserve them. At daybreak Clark's men 
made a house-to-house search for arms, a proceeding 
which naturally intensified the prevailing terror. 
Clark's attitude, when a deputation waited on him to 
learn his intentions, was even more alarming. 

"Giving all for lost," he wrote to George Mason, 
one of the Virginia statesmen who had been so help- 
ful to him at Williamsburg, "their lives were all they 
could dare beg for, which they did with the greatest 



184 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

servancy. They were willing to be slaves to save 
their families. I told them it did not suit me to give 
them an answer at that time, and they repaired to 
their houses, trembling as if they were led to exe- 
cution." ^ 

A little later, however, feeling that they had been 
sufficiently overawed, he called their leading men 
together, informed them of the alliance between 
France and the United States, and told them they 
would be free to come and go as they pleased, pro- 
vided only that they took an oath of allegiance to the 
Republic. 

All anxiety was at once forgotten in an ecstacy 
of rejoicing. Light-hearted — one might almost say 
irresponsible — creatures that they were, it mattered 
not one whit to the Kaskaskians under what flag 
they lived. They danced and sang, they decorated 
their cabins, and, in further token of their joy, erected 
in the streets curious little pavilions of leaves and 
flowers. Commandant Rocheblave alone remained 

^ Clark's letter to Mason (dated Louisville, Nov. 19, 1779) is 
an invaluable document for the study of the conquest of the 
Northwest. It is printed in full, together with the public and pri- 
vate instructions given to Clark by Governor Henry, in No. 3 of 
the "Ohio Valley Historical Series." Copious extracts are quoted 
from it in Dr. Thwaites's "How George Rogers Clark won the 
Northwest." For a detailed account of Clark's campaign, see also 
Consul Wilshire Butterfield's " George Rogers Clark's Conquest 
of the Illinois and the Wabash Towns, 1778 and 1779." 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 185 

irreconcilable, and lest he should stir up trouble 
Clark soon packed him off to Virginia as a prisoner 
of war. 

But the crowning feature of Clark's policy of paci- 
fication was the assurance he gave the local priest, 
Father Pierre Gibault, that the people would be un- 
disturbed in the practice of their religion. Devout 
Catholics all of them, the Creoles thenceforward 
rallied about him with greater enthusiasm than ever, 
while Father Gibault, overwhelmed with aston- 
ishment and gratitude, blossomed forthwith into a 
zealous promoter of Clark's plans for the extension 
of the conquest to the neighboring town of Cahokia 
and the more distant Vincennes. 

Bidding some of his parishioners accompany a 
small party of Americans to Cahokia, and explain to 
the people of that place the great desirabiHty of offer- 
ing no resistance to the Americans, the worthy priest 
himself mounted a horse and rode to Vincennes, a 
journey of nearly two hundred miles. Early in 
August he was back with the welcome news that 
through his influence the American flag had been 
raised there, and Clark immediately sent one of his 
officers. Captain Leonard Helm, to take command 
of the Vincennes mihtia. In similar fashion he in- 
stalled Captain Joseph Bowman as commandant at 
Cahokia, he himself remaining at Kaskaskia. 

The problem of pacifying the Illinois Indians had 



1 86 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

still to be solved, but, by the aid of the Creoles and 
through a masterly exhibition of strength and tact 
on his own part, Clark was entirely successful in 
treating with them at a great council held at Cahokia. 

More serious was the difficulty caused by the desire 
of most of his followers, whose term of service had 
expired, to return to their homes. He well knew that, 
pending the arrival of fresh troops from Virginia, 
he could not afford to lose a man, as it was certain 
the British would make an attempt to regain the 
conquered posts. But his expostulations, entreaties, 
and promises of rich rewards fell on unheeding ears, 
nearly one hundred of the self-willed backwoodsmen 
refusing to reenlist, and marching hastily away. 
To fill their places Clark enlisted an equal number 
of young Creole volunteers, whom he drilled into 
really efficient soldiers. This work helped the time 
pass swiftly and agreeably. 

"Our troops," he wrote to Mason, "being all raw 
and undisciplined, you must be sensible of the 
pleasure I felt when haranguing them on parade, 
telling them my resolutions and the necessity of 
strict duty for our own preservation, etc., for them 
to return me for answer that it was their zeal for their 
country that induced them to engage in the service; 
that they were sensible of their situation and danger; 
that nothing could conduce more to their safety and 
happiness than good order, which they would try 



;:,0^ ■ 




^lH 






0- 



Gi:(M<GE RuciEK.-, Clark 

From portrait by J. B. Longacre, after painting by J. W. Jarvi 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 187 

to adhere to, and hoped that no favor would be shown 
those that would neglect it. In a short time perhaps 
no garrison could boast of better order, or a more 
valuable set of men." 

Every day was bringing nearer the moment when 
the mettle of this "most valuable set of men" would 
be put to one of the severest tests imposed on any 
body of troops in the history of warfare. As Clark 
had fully expected, Governor Hamilton, so soon as 
he learned the amazing news from the Illinois coun- 
try, began to organize an expedition of reconquest. 
An entire month was devoted to fitting it out, and 
when it left Detroit, Oct. 7, it consisted of about 
one hundred and fifty whites, mostly French-Cana- 
dian volunteers, and one hundred Indians, or a total 
of two hundred and fifty men, led by Hamilton him- 
self. Later accessions, both of whites and Indians, 
brought the total up to five hundred. 

The shortest and most practicable route to Vin- 
cennes was chosen — across Lake Erie to the mouth 
of the Maumee, up that stream to a large Indian 
village, and thence by a nine-mile portage to a 
tributary of the Wabash, down which the expedition 
floated to its destination; but the weather turned 
unexpectedly cold, forming surface ice which impeded 
the progress of the boats to such an extent that 
Vincennes was not reached until Dec. 17, or seventy- 
one days after the start had been made from Detroit. 



1 88 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Besides Captain Helm there were only two Ameri- 
cans at the quaint old fort on the Wabash, and as the 
Creole militia immediately went over to the enemy 
there was nothing for Helm to do but surrender. 
An interesting, but quite incredible, tradition has 
it that when Hamilton approached Vincennes at 
the head of his motley army, he found Helm stand- 
ing, match in hand, beside a loaded cannon, and 
that Helm refused to allow any one to enter until 
satisfactory terms of capitulation had been arranged. 

What actually happened was that, instead of 
marching out with "the honors of war," as this 
tradition declares, the Americans were held prisoners 
and closely guarded to prevent their escaping to 
Clark with a warning of Hamilton's arrival. It 
was also decided by the British commander not to 
advance against Kaskaskia and Cahokia at that time, 
but to remain at Vincennes until the open weather of 
spring should render travel less difficult and hazard- 
ous. Feeling perfectly secure in his position, he 
permitted rather more than half his force to go home^ 
with orders to return to Vincennes in the early springy 
to bring reenforcements with them, and to come 
prepared for a campaign having as its object not 
simply the expulsion of the Americans from the 
Illinois region, but the blotting out of the settlements 
in Kentucky. 

Had it been possible for him to execute this am- 



J 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 189 

bitious project, the whole course of American history 
would in all likelihood have been changed. But 
by lingering at Vincennes he gave Clark a chance 
to save himself and to save the West for his country- 
men — and Clark was not the man to let slip any 
chance, no matter how slender it might be. 

Having once learned of Hamilton's presence at 
Vincennes and his intended inaction until spring, 
he determined to march across country and endeavor 
to repeat his exploit of the previous July. As was 
immediately pointed out by his Kaskaskia volunteers, 
who had little relish for so daring a venture, a suc- 
cession of thaws had caused such heavy floods that 
a great part of the intervening territory was under 
water, and even should the troops succeed in drag- 
ging themselves through the innumerable bogs and 
morasses they would scarcely be in a condition to 
make a winning fight at their journey's end. By 
way of reply Clark bluntly told them that they could 
accompany him or not as they chose — that he 
knew he could depend on his brave Americans, and 
that he had made up his mind to go to Vincennes if 
he had to swim every foot of the way. 

His air of confidence was not without effect, nor 
was the attitude taken by the Creole girls of both 
Kaskaskia and Cahokia, who showed the greatest 
interest in his expedition and sought to shame their 
brothers and lovers into joining it. Largely as a 



190 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

result of their urging, the "principal young men of 
the Illinois" finally consented to undertake the 
perilous march, and early in February, 1779, Clark 
was able to set out for Kaskaskia at the head of a 
combined force of one hundred and seventy Ameri- 
cans and French. 

For a week the journey, though slow and difficult, 
was not so arduous as had been expected. Its 
monotony was broken by several buffalo hunts, 
and in the evenings all fraternized together around 
huge camp-fires, feasting, singing, and telling stories. 
In this way the men contrived to keep up their 
spirits, even for some days after they entered the 
so-called "drowned lands" of the Wabash, a wide 
tract of flooded country extending from the Little 
Wabash almost to Vincennes. 

Their first experience of the fearful hardships in 
store for them came when they struck the peninsula 
between the two branches of the Little Wabash. 
Here the opposite heights of land were five miles 
apart, and from one to the other stretched an un- 
broken sheet of flood-water, at no place less than three 
feet deep. "This would have been enough," as 
Clark picturesquely wrote, "to have stopped any set 
of men that was not in the same temper we was in." 
A large canoe was hurriedly built to ferry the troops 
and supplies across the deeper channels, the pack- 
horses swimming behind to be reloaded from scaf- 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 191 

folding set up in the shallow parts of the submerged 
plain. But for most of the way men and beasts 
alike dragged their weary limbs through the bush- 
strewn water. 

Thenceforward not a mile of the journey was made 
on dry land, and Clark's desperate followers were 
frequently obliged to traverse broad expanses of 
swamp-land and meadow, where the water rose breast- 
high. Often, too, they were hard pressed to find 
a dry enough spot on which to camp; and as all 
game had been driven away by the floods, they began 
to suffer from hunger as well as from exposure and 
exhaustion. Under the circumstances it is not sur- 
prising that many talked of turning back, and that 
the Creole volunteers openly threatened to desert. 
But Clark, with the masterfulness that distinguished 
his entire career as a military commander, held them 
firmly to their purpose, and constantly set them an 
example of heroic boldness and endurance. 

Once, it is said, when they refused to trust them- 
selves to a water-filled depression that seemed un- 
fordable, he blackened his face Hke an Indian, gave 
the war-whoop, and sprang into the ice-cold water; 
upon which, without another word, his men waded 
in after him, following his tall form until they reached 
in safety the point at which they had been aiming. 

The last few miles were far and away the worst. 
On the fifteenth day from Kaskaskia the famished 



192 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and worn soldiers crossed the Wabash in a pouring 
rain and turned north for the final stage of the heart- 
breaking march. All about them was a watery 
waste, broken only by some scattered hillocks that 
barely crested the flood. Many of the men were 
so weak that they had to be carried in canoes, while 
the rest staggered wearily forward, the water often 
up to their chins. That day they covered less than 
three miles, and, drenched to the bone, passed the 
night on a boggy island-knoll "within sound of the 
evening and morning guns from the fort." Next 
day the story was the same, and nightfall found them 
still some miles from Vincennes. Before morning 
it turned bitterly cold — so cold that their wet 
garments stiffened on them like so many coats of 
armor. Now came a renewal of the mutterings of 
discontent and mutiny, but Clark, unshakable as 
ever, grimly took his accustomed place at the head 
of the column, and bade his officers bring up the rear 
and shoot any one who refused to march. 

A little while and they could plainly see the thick 
fringe of forest behind which Vincennes nestled. 
In between lay what was in the summer a verdant, 
smiling plain, but was then a shallow lake four miles 
wide and without one inch of ground showing above 
its smooth surface. All but the strongest began to 
slacken their pace when halfway across. Some, 
unable longer to maintain their footing, were saved 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 193 

from drowning only by the efforts of their sturdier 
comrades, who lifted them into the waiting canoes. 
As they approached the woods the water deepened 
until it was up to the shoulders of the tallest, but by 
the aid of the canoes and of floating logs all managed 
to reach shore without mishap. Not a few, however, 
were so exhausted that they fell forward the moment 
they set foot on land. Had Hamilton and his 
British garrison put in an appearance at that mo- 
ment, Clark's ever memorable march across the 
"drowned lands" of the Wabash must have come to 
an inglorious end. 

Fortunately, as Clark learned from a Vincennes 
Frenchman whom some of his Creoles captured, 
Hamilton had not the slightest suspicion that a 
hostile force was — or could be — within striking 
distance. The prisoner also gave Clark the pleas- 
ing assurance that the people of Vincennes were 
none too fond of the British governor, and would 
certainly not take up arms in his behalf if they could 
avoid doing so. This led the bold Kentuckian to 
map out a course of action which, even for him, 
was singularly audacious. 

Waiting until his men had warmed themselves 
beside some blazing fires, had dried their clothes 
and rifles, and had refreshed themselves with a Httle 
bufl^alo meat, he sent the prisoner to Vincennes as 
the bearer of a "proclamation" in which he an- 



194 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

nounced his intention of attacking the fort that night, 
promised generous treatment to all who proved 
themselves "true citizens," and advised all others 
to "repair to the fort, and join the Hair-Buyer 
General, and fight Hke men." 

The town of Vincennes was some little distance 
from the fort, and although the invaders could be 
seen from the former they were hidden from the view 
of the garrison. In order to give the townspeople 
a false idea of his strength, Clark caused his men 
to parade up and down in such a way that they seemed 
to be three or four times as numerous as they really 
were. But he need not have resorted to this stratagem. 
The mere mention of his name, and his sudden and 
totally unexpected appearance out of the flood-swept 
meadows, so appalled the inhabitants of Vincennes 
that not one of them dared show sufficient friendli- 
ness to Hamilton to visit the fort and warn him. 
How unprepared Hamilton was, may be judged from 
the fact that, when the attack began, shortly after 
seven o'clock, he supposed that the first shots were 
fired by some drunken Indians. 

Looking out, however, and perceiving in the bright 
moonlight that the fort was surrounded by white men, 
he instantly grasped the situation and made hurried 
preparations for defence. As in most structures 
of the kind, there was a blockhouse at each of the 
four corners of the high stockade surrounding the 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 195 

garrison's quarters, and all four blockhouses were 
equipped with cannon. These were at once dis- 
charged against the assailants, who scattered in 
every direction to renew their attack from whatever 
would give them cover. 

Although without artillery himself, Clark realized 
that it was imperative to silence the enemy's guns 
in some way, and he quickly passed the word to 
concentrate the rifle-fire on the batteries of the block- 
houses. All of his Americans, and many of the 
Creoles^ were crack shots; and so deadly accurate 
was their aim that before many minutes none of 
the garrison dared attempt to operate the cannon. 
But they kept up a brave defence until one o'clock 
in the morning, when the moon set and darkness 
compelled a suspension of hostilities. 

Before sunrise Clark gained a decided advantage 
by throwing up a strong intrenchment near the fort, 
thus enabling his sharpshooters to harass its defend- 
ers with comparatively little danger to themselves. 
The absence of any attempt at a sortie, and the silenc- 
ing of the guns, convinced him that unless aid came 
from outside, Hamilton must in the end surrender. 
To guard against possible interference he detached 
fifty men to watch the approaches to the town ; and 
it was well that he did so, for early in the morning 
a party of Indians rode into Vincennes, fresh from 
a successful foray against the frontier. 



196 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Maddened by the sight of the scalps which the 
savages ostentatiously displayed, Clark's men fell 
upon them, killed and wounded a number and made 
six of them prisoners. By Clark's orders these 
captives were ruthlessly tomahawked and thrown 
into the Wabash in full view of the garrison — an 
act which had the double effect of terrorizing the 
people of Vincennes into continued neutrality, and 
of creating a panic among the French-Canadians 
in the fort. 

An hour or two eadier Clark had sent a messenger 
to Hamilton inviting him to save himself from "the 
impending storm," but Hamilton had angrily de- 
clined "to be awed into an action unworthy of a 
British subject." Now, convinced by the attitude 
of his French-Canadian militia that it was impossible 
to hope to hold out much longer, he requested a 
truce for three days. 

"Colonel Clark's compliments to Mr. Hamilton," 
came the stern reply, " and begs leave to inform him 
that Colonel Clark will not agree to any other terms 
than that of Mr. Hamilton's surrendering himself and 
garrison prisoners at discretion. If Mr. Hamilton is 
desirous of a conference with Colonel Clark, he will 
meet him at the church, with Mr. Helm." 

To the little French church in Vincennes, at a late 
hour in the afternoon, came the helpless "Mr. 
Hamilton," ablaze with impotent wrath at the thought 



The Campaigning of George Rogers Clark 197 

of being obliged to yield his fort to "a set of un- 
civilized Virginia woodsmen armed with rifles/' 

It was not a pleasant meeting. Clark, in his 
rugged, outright way, and unsparing in his use of 
epithets, denounced Hamilton to his face as the one 
man responsible for the atrocities of the Indian 
allies of the British. Defending himself on the plea 
that he had but been carrying out the orders of his 
superiors, hot and angry words flew fast. Ultimately, 
though only after much disputing, terms of capitu- 
lation were arranged, Hamilton agreeing to sur- 
render the fort at ten o'clock the following morning, 
Feb. 25, together with its garrison of seventy- 
nine men. Promptly at the hour appointed, the 
victorious Clark marched in, hoisted the American 
colors, and gave to the fort the new name of " Patrick 
Henry," in honor of the man without whose aid 
his dream of conquest would never have come true. 

That it had come true, and that it was pregnant 
with the most far-reaching consequences to posterity, 
not even Clark realized as he stood in the battle- 
scarred stockade amid the brave fellows who had 
followed him through flood and forest. Yet, with 
the fall of Vincennes a new era opened in the history 
of the isolated region where, so many years before, 
the Frenchman had planted his forts and trading 
stations in the vain hope of checking the irresistible 
advance of his English rival. 



198 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Gone forever was the day of French dominion — 
gone, too, the day of British supremacy. Henceforth 
it was to be the American — bold, hardy, enterprising, 
and progressive — who should hold and open up 
and develop the prairies and valleys of the great 
Northwest. With fewer than two hundred ragged, 
starving, and enfeebled soldiers, George Rogers 
Clark had won for the United States an inland king- 
dom of magnificent possibilities, had dealt a giant's 
blow in behalf of his fellow- Kentuckians and of the 
larger cause of independence, and had earned for 
himself an imperishable renown in his country's 
history. 

Not that the conquest of Kaskaskia, Cahokia, 
and Vincennes, and the capture of Hamilton — 
who was sent in irons to Virginia — brought immedi- 
ate peace to the men of Kentucky. They still had 
to fight long and manfully and desperately to defend 
their homes against the raiding savage. But without 
the respite afforded by Clark's campaigning, which 
had the effect both of weakening the enemy and of 
encouraging immigration to the West, the Kentuckians 
must in time have acknowledged defeat. The mar- 
vel is that they did not succumb during his absence, 
when they experienced many severe losses, not the 
least of which was the dragging away of their 
leader, Daniel Boone, into a prolonged Indian 
captivity. 



CHAPTER XII 

BOONE AMONG THE INDIANS 

IT was while attempting to render an important 
and necessary service to his fellow-settlers at 
Boonesborough that the famous explorer and 
road-maker for the second time became an Indian 
captive. 

Travel along the Wilderness Road, as has been said, 
had almost completely ceased as a result of the war, 
and the Kentuckians had consequently been unable 
to obtain the supplies they had formerly imported 
from the manufacturing centres of Virginia. Among 
these was that indispensable article of food — salt. 
During the fall of 1777, however, they had received 
from the Virginia government a number of boiling 
kettles which it was hoped would enable them to 
make salt for themselves at the various buffalo licks. 
Early in January, 1778, a party of thirty settlers, 
headed by Boone, left Boonesborough for the lower 
Blue Lick for the purpose of securing at least a year's 
supply of salt, so that they should have an ample 
quantity on hand in case the activity of the Indians 

199 



200 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

prevented them from resuming its manufacture. 
For some weeks the savages had given comparatively 
little trouble, and it was confidently hoped that the 
salt-makers would be able to carry out their under- 
taking without molestation. Nevertheless a sharp 
watch was kept, and while half the party worked at 
the boiling, the others ranged cautiously through the 
woods, ready to run in and give the alarm at the 
least sign of Indians. 

Several weeks passed uneventfully. A considerable 
amount of salt was made, and shipped to Boones- 
borough in charge of three or four men, and in a few 
more days the entire party intended returning to 
the fort. But, by an unlucky chance, just as they 
were about to depart, a war-band of Shawnees 
surprised and captured Boone and compelled him 
to lead them to the camp, where all were made 
prisoners. 

/ At the time of his capture Boone was scouting about 
ten miles from the Blue Lick, in the midst of a blind- 
ing snowstorm. It was late in the afternoon and 
he was homeward bound, leading a pack-horse laden 
with buffalo meat which he had shot during the day. 
Suddenly, out of the whirl of the snow, four burl] 
Indians confronted him. Dropping the horse'j 
halter he turned and ran, dodging in and out amoni 
the trees, with the Shawnees in hot pursuit. Fleet 
of foot though he was, the Indians were faster, and 



Boone among the Indians 201 

in a few minutes he was in their grasp and securely 
bound. 

They took him some miles to an encampment where 
he found more than a hundred warriors, com- 
manded by a Shawnee chieftain, Black Fish, and 
accompanied by two Canadians and two American 
renegades from Pittsburg, James and George Girty, 
brothers of a notorious "white Indian," Simon Girty.^ 
Among the Indians, by a singular coincidence, were 
several of the party who had captured him eight 
years before, and these at once recognized him, 
and, with mock poHteness, introduced him to their 
mates. 

He learned, to his dismay, that the Indians were 
en route to attack Boonesborough. But first, they 
told him, he must conduct them to the camp of the 
salt-makers and induce the latter to surrender. His 
decision was quickly reached. He knew the Indian 
character well enough to be aware that if they did 
succeed in capturing the salt-makers, they would 

^ The Girtys were borderers who, joining the British, partici- 
pated in numerous Indian raids against the frontier settlements. 
Simon was especially dreaded and hated by the backwoods people, 
and was credited with many acts of diabolical cruelty which, as 
recent historical research has made certain, he did not commit. 
Still, when everything that can be said in his favor is said, he re- 
mains a thoroughly despicable figure. For an excellent account 
of Simon and his brothers, see Consul Wilshire Butterfield's "His- 
tory of the Girtys." 



202 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

abandon all idea of attacking Boonesborough, and 
would instead return in triumph to their villages, 
perfectly content with having taken a few prisoners. 
For the sake of the settlement he felt that he ought 
to acquiesce in the Shawnees' demands, even though 
they might afterwards fail to live up to their promise 
to treat the salt-makers kindly. Accordingly, the 
following day he guided the Indians to the camp at 
the lower Blue Lick, and, pointing out to his luckless 
companions that resistance to such an overwhelming 
force would be useless, persuaded them to lay down 
their arms. 

For this he was later court-martialed, but justly 
acquitted. Things fell out exactly as he had hoped 
they would. In spite of the angry protests of the 
Girty brothers and the two Canadians, the Shawnees 
refused to proceed another step, and began their 
homeward march, which turned out to be a terrible 
journey for captors and prisoners alike. The weather 
was intensely cold, there was a heavy snowfall, and 
before reaching the Shawnee town of Chillicothe — 
situated on the Little Miami, about three miles north 
of the present town of Xenia, Ohio — the Indians, 
in order to obtain food, were forced to kill some of 
their horses and dogs. Whatever provision they 
had they shared Hberally with the salt-makers, not 
out of any kindly feehng but because they wished to 
take them to Detroit and receive the hberal rewards 



I 



Boone among the Indians 203 

offered by the British governor, Hamilton, for all 
prisoners brought in. 

Even so, there was a strong minority that would 
have preferred torturing them to death. At a council 
held immediately after their capture a vote was taken 
on the question of burning them at the stake or of 
reserving them for the governor's rewards, and 
fifty-nine voted for the stake as against sixty-one for 
the money, the majority in favor of keeping faith and 
sparing their lives being thus only two. 

There was one prisoner, indeed, who they soon 
determined not to release for any consideration. 
This was Boone. Appreciating keenly the re- 
sponsibility he had taken upon himself by delivering 
his friends into their power, he spared no effort to 
placate the Indians and keep them in good humor. 
As a result they became sincerely fond of him, and 
announced their intention of making him one of 
themselves. 

It was all in vain that, as soon as he learned this, 
Boone exerted himself to win the good-will of Gov- 
ernor Hamilton, assuring him, with pardonable men- 
dacity, of his entire willingness to turn Tory and 
desert the American cause. Hamilton, believing him, 
and regarding him, on account of his knowledge of 
forest life and skill with the rifle, as a most desirable 
acquisition, offered as high as one hundred pounds 
sterling for his release. The Indians merely shook 



204 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

their heads, while their chieftain, Black Fish, de- 
clared that not only would he take Boone back with 
him from Detroit to Chillicothe, but that he would 
adopt him into the tribe as his own son. 

The ceremony of adoption was no perfunctory 
affair. "The hair of the candidate's head," says 
one well acquainted with Indian customs, "is plucked 
out by a tedious and painful operation, leaving a 
tuft, some three or four inches in diameter, on the 
crown, for the scalp-lock, which is cut and dressed 
up with ribbons and feathers. The candidate is then 
taken to a river and there thoroughly washed and 
rubbed, 'to take all his white blood out.' He is 
then taken to the council-house, where the chief 
makes a speech in which he expatiates upon the 
distinguished honors conferred on him and the line 
of conduct expected from him. His head and face 
are painted in the most approved and fashionable 
style, and the ceremony is concluded with a grand 
feast and smoking." 

How far the details of this programme were exe- 
cuted in Boone's case it is impossible to say, but 
it may safely be hazarded that by the time the Indians 
had finished painting and decorating him not even 
his mother would have recognized him. Still, he was 
careful to keep them from suspecting that he con- 
sidered his transformation into a full-fledged Shawnee 
brave anything but a high honor. Not the least 



Boone among the Indians 205 

valuable of the many accompHshments he had gained 
through his constant contact with the wilderness, 
was the art of concealing not merely his person but 
his feelings. He entered with well-simulated en- 
thusiasm into the life of the Indians, smoked with 
them, hunted with them, ate with them, and seem- 
ingly enjoyed it all, although, as he afterwards naively 
said, the food and lodging were "not so good as I 
could desire, but necessity made everything agreeable." 
In a short time Big Turtle, as he had been named, 
was one of the most popular warriors in the village. 

All the while he was patiently planning a way of 
escape, and resorting to the most ingenious devices 
to thwart the vigilance with which the Indians, not- 
withstanding their liking for him, watched his every 
movement. It was their custom, whenever they 
permitted him to leave Chillicothe on a hunting 
expedition, to count the bullets he took with him, and 
he was required to return all excepting those spent 
in shooting game. By dividing a number of bullets 
into halves, and using light charges of powder, just 
sufficient to kill turkeys, squirrels, and other small 
game, he managed to save several charges for his 
own use if a chance to escape presented itself. 

Early in June, having then been a prisoner of the 
Shawnees for more than four months, he was sent 
with a small detachment of Indians to make salt at 
a lick on the Scioto. Upon his return, ten days 



2o6 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

later, he was astonished to find that during his absence 
Indians from other towns and tribes had been pour- 
ing into Chillicothe, until nearly five hundred war- 
riors were assembled there, decked in all the panoply 
of a war-party. He had picked up a smattering 
of the Shawnee tongue, and by unobtrusively min- 
gling with the throng he learned that within a week 
it was planned to send a strong expedition into Ken- 
tucky, having for its special object nothing less than 
the destruction of Boonesborough. 

Now indeed Boone felt that the time had come 
when, at all hazards, he must attempt to escape. 
He spent a day in making secret preparations, 
gathering together his little stock of powder and 
bullets, cleaning his rifle, sharpening his hunting- 
knife, and mending his moccasins. Then, early 
in the morning of June i6, having obtained permis- 
sion to go hunting, he struck off from Chillicothe in 
a direct line for the Ohio. He would have at least ten 
hours' start, but pursuit was certain to be fast and 
furious the moment his flight was discovered, and 
knowing this, he raced through the forest at top speed 
in the effort to put as many miles as possible be- 
tween him and Chillicothe before nightfall. 

Perhaps no other incident in Boone's long and 
remarkable career brings out so clearly the noble 
characteristics that have made his memory so dear 
to Americans as does this flight through the Ohio 



Boone among the Indians 207 

wilderness. He was fleeing, not to gain freedom for 
himself, but to save the lives of others. Like a father 
ready to make any sacrifice for the sake of his chil- 
dren, Boone was deliberately taking his life in his 
hands that he might carry a warning to the settlers 
who had so often looked to him in the past for pro- 
tection and guidance. Were he captured his fate 
was sealed — a terrible doom awaited him. His 
flight would seem to the Shawnees the basest ingrati- 
tude, punishable by death in its most horrid form and 
after excruciating tortures. But he thought not of 
himself — he thought only of the brave men, the 
helpless women and children, who would inevitably 
fall victims to the ferocity of the savages were he 
overtaken. 

Doubling on his tracks, setting bhnd trails, wading 
down the beds of streams, using every artifice of the 
skilled woodsman to bafile his pursuers, he finally 
reached the Ohio. He was not a good swimmer, and 
he anticipated great difficulty in crossing that river, 
which had been swollen by heavy rains and was run- 
ning with a strong current. But he was lucky 
enough to find an abandoned canoe caught among 
some bushes growing along the bank, and although 
the frail craft was badly damaged, he contrived to 
mend it suflSciently to bear him in safety to the other 
side. 

He was still many miles from Boonesborough, and 



2o8 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

by no means out of danger, for at any moment he 
might stumble into the camp of some wandering 
party of Indians. Renewing his precautions, sleep- 
ing in hollow logs and dense thickets, preferring to 
go hungry rather than fire his gun, and setting blind 
trails as before, he journeyed painfully on, his cloth- 
ing in tatters, his body bleeding from the wounds of 
thorn and bramble, his feet bruised and aching. 
Not until the third day after his departure did he 
have a real meal, when at one of the Blue Licks he 
ventured to shoot a buffalo. The evening of the 
fourth day, or the morning of the fifth, the exact 
time being uncertain, he staggered into Boones- 
borough, where he was welcomed as one risen from 
the dead. \ 

While he was in captivity many of the settlers, 
despairing of receiving aid from Virginia, and losing 
all confidence in their ability to hold Kentucky 
unaided, had returned to the settlements east of the 
mountains. Among these was Mrs. Boone, who had 
given him up for lost, and taking their family with her, 
had gone to her father's home on the Yadkin, trav- 
elling by pack-horses over the Wilderness Road. 
Of all Boone's kinsfolk there were only two to greet 
him, his brother Squire and his daughter Jemima, 
who had, as we know, become the wife of Flanders 
Callaway. The latter was still at Boonesborough, 
together with his father Richard Callaway, John 



Boone among the Indians 209 

Kennedy, John Holder, and others of the original 
settlers. But the entire population of that station 
was less than a hundred, of whom barely a third 
were men of "fighting age"; and the defences were 
in great need of strengthening and repair. 
/ Boone, exhausted though he was by the hardships 
of his flight, promptly took upon himself the task of 
preparing to meet the expected attack. He de- 
spatched an express rider to the Holston settlements 
in southwestern Virginia, with an urgent appeal for 
reenforcements ; set men to work on the fortifications ; 
and sent out scouts to report the coming of the foe. 
To his great relief it soon became evident that, hav- 
ing failed to recapture him, the Indians had either 
entirely abandoned their project or had postponed 
it to a later day, when they might again hope to take 
the settlers unawares. 

The arrival of his trusted comrade-at-arms, Simon 
Kenton, with news of the taking of the Northwest 
posts made his heart still lighter, and aroused a 
lively hope that the settlers' days of tribulation would 
soon be at an end. But this hope was dissipated 
almost immediately when Stephen Hancock, one of 
the salt-makers who had been taken prisoner with 
Boone, escaped to Boonesborough and reported that, 
in response to the insistent demands of Governor 
Hamilton, Black Fish v/as once more assembling his 
warriors for a blow ao^ainst the "rebels of Kentuck." 



210 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

In order to obtain confirmation of Hancock's 
story, and if possible alarm Black Fish into again 
desisting from an attack, Boone determined to carry 
the war into the enemy's country. About the middle 
of August he marched from the fort at the head of a 
scouting party of nineteen sharpshooters, — includ- 
ing Kenton, Hancock, and Holder, — crossed the 
Ohio, and penetrated to within a short distance of 
Chillicothe. Near Paint Creek, a branch of the 
Scioto, he fell in with a war-party of thirty Shawnees, 
marching to join the main body which, as Boone had 
already learned, was even then on its way to Kentucky. 
Although outnumbered he promptly ordered his men 
to charge, and, after a brief skirmish, put the Indians 
to flight and captured their horses and baggage. ; 

Wisely enough, however, instead of attempting to 
follow up his victory, he began a rapid march back 
to Boonesborough, evaded the Indian army, and 
reached the fort barely two hours before the enemy 
encamped opposite it on the north bank of the Ken- 
tucky. It was, as his biographer. Dr. Peck, has 
said, an exceedingly "gallant and heroic affair for 
twenty men to march one hundred and fifty miles 
into the heart of the Indian country, surprise and 
defeat thirty warriors, and then effect a successful 
retreat in the face of a foe twenty times more nu- 
merous than their own force." 
/ Had he not got back to Boonesborough in safety 



Boone among the Indians 2ii 

there could have been no hope for that place. As it 
was, even the stout-hearted Boone acknowledged 
that the outlook was of the gloomiest. There were 
but fifty men and boys in the fort fit to bear arms, 
and even counting the women, who rendered noble 
assistance in the defence, the total fighting force did 
not exceed seventy-five. Against this. Black Fish 
brought the largest army that had yet threatened the 
Kentucky settlements. 

It included upwards of four hundred Indians, 
mostly of the war-loving Shawnee tribe, and a com- 
pany of Canadians, commanded by Lieutenant 
De Quindre, of the Detroit militia. Without ex- 
ception the minor chieftains were, like Black Fish, 
veterans of many fights. / One was Black Bird, 
called by Governor Henry of Virginia "the great 
chief of the Chippewas," who shortly afterwards 
changed his allegiance from the British to the Ameri- 
can side. Another was Black Hoof, who had been 
conspicuous in Braddock's defeat. A third was 
Moluntha, known to the Kentuckians as one of their 
most implacable enemies. None, it is true, was of 
the caliber of a King Philip, a Pontiac, or a Tecumseh, 
but all were warriors to be dreaded. 

It was just before sunset of Sept. 6 that Boone 
and his scouts galloped hastily through the gate of the 
Boonesborough stockade, and in the ensuing dusk of 
twilight the defenders could see the plumed and 



212 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

painted forms of the Indians moving through the 
trees and bushes on the opposite side of the river. 
We may feel sure that there was little sleep for any 
one in the fort that night. But morning dawned 
without the expected attack, reveahng the Indians, 
however, among a thick covert of undergrowth only 
a few hundred feet from Boonesborough. They 
had marched down the Kentucky, crossed it at a 
point still called "Black Fish Ford," cHmbed the 
steep southern bank, and drawn near to the fort 
under cover of the darkness. 

It soon became evident that they hoped to gain a 
bloodless victory. A Canadian carrying a flag of 
truce advanced into the open space in front of Boones- 
borough, announced himself the bearer of a letter 
from Governor Hamilton, and called on the garrison 
to send commissioners to discuss its contents with 
delegates from the invading army. Delighted at the 
prospect of gaining time which might permit the 
arrival of the reenforcements expected from Vir- 
ginia, the settlers readily consented, naming Boone, 
the elder Callaway, and WilHam Bailey Smith as their 
commissioners. For the enemy, De Quindre, Black 
Fish, and Moluntha advanced to meet them, bring- 
ing as a token of good faith a present of some roasted 
buffalo tongues. | j 

Now began a series of negotiations without parallel 
in border warfare. Hamilton's letter, it appeared, j 



Boone among the Indians 213 

demanded the surrender of Boonesborough on terms 
which both the governor and the Indian chieftains 
evidently thought too tempting to be rejected, for 
Black Fish informed Boone that "he had come to 
take the people away comfortably, and had brought 
along forty horses for the old folks, the women, and 
the children to ride." With great gravity Boone 
repHed that he would have to consult the settlers 
before returning a reply, and asked for a two days' 
truce, which was readily granted. 

The two days were spent by the garrison not in 
debating Hamilton's offer, but in preparing for a 
vigorous resistance. While the Indians smoked, 
chatted, and lolled about in full view of the fort, the 
whites brought in their cattle, which had been graz- 
ing near the stockade, put their rifles in perfect con- 
dition, and laid in a large supply of water from a 
near-by spring.^ Then, on the expiration of the truce, 
they defiantly announced through Boone *that they 
had "determined to defend the fort while a man 
was living." 

^ Prudent in most things, the early settlers of Kentucky were 
inexplicably careless with respect to the important matter of having 
a protected source of drinking water. With few exceptions they 
sank no wells within their stockades, but were dependent on 
springs in the open. During the Indian wars this resulted in dis- 
aster on more than one occasion. Once, as we shall see, it gave 
opportunity for an almost incredible act of heroism by pioneer 
women. 



214 Daniel Boone and the Vvilderness Road 

Still the invading army refrained from hostilities. 
De Quindre, acting as their spokesman, replied that 
they were under instructions from Hamilton to avoid 
bloodshed, and declared that if the settlers would 
only sign a treaty swearing allegiance to the British 
cause, the Indians would be withdrawn and they 
be left in peaceable possession of their fort. 

"Send out nine representatives," said he, "with 
full powers to act for the whole, and things can be 
speedily adjusted." 

It was a proposal that smacked of treachery, but 
the settlers, still anxious to gain time, accepted it. 
Early the next morning, under the great elm that had 
witnessed the signing of the Transylvania Compact, 
Boone, Richard and Flanders Callaway, and six 
other settlers met De Quindre, Black Fish, Black 
Bird, Black Hoof, and Moluntha to consider the 
terms of the proposed treaty. 

Around them, although at a considerable distance, 
the Indian army squatted on the ground, smoking 
and impassively watching the proceedings. In the 
fort, under strict orders from Boone, sharpshooters 
peered through the port-holes, ready, should they 
receive a prearranged signal, to pour a volley into 
the Indians. As a further precaution every woman 
and child in Boonesborough made a showing at the 
pickets to deceive the enemy as to the garrison's 
strength. 



Boone among the Indians 215 

The whole day was spent in "pow-wowing" and 
feasting, and by nightfall the nine commissioners 
had promised to sign next morning a treaty which 
would result in raising the British flag above the back- 
woods fort. Again every precaution was taken to 
prevent a surprise. At Boone's demand the com- 
missioners of both parties went to the meeting-place 
unarmed. But there was no indication that the 
Indians really meditated treachery until, after the 
treaty had been formally signed, Black Fish took his 
pipe from his mouth, and quietly observed : — 

'' Brothers, to confirm this treaty we must have a 
hand-shake all round, two braves to each white 
brother." 

At his words eighteen stalwart young Indians 
strode towards the nine commissioners, extended 
their hands in a friendly manner, and then, getting 
a firm grasp, attempted to drag the whites away. 
But the latter were too quick for them, each freeing 
himself by a dexterous movement and springing aside, 
while Boone gave the signal to the sharpshooters, who 
answered with a leaden hail that for a moment 
checked pursuit. 

Running at utmost speed, the settlers made for the 
fort, bullets whisthng after them as they fled. Only 
two were struck, neither being fatally wounded, and 
before the Indians could rally from the sharpshooters' 
attack eight of the nine were out of harm's way be- 



2i6 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

hind the stockade, which the ninth also managed to 
reach at night-fall after having lain concealed in the 
underbrush all day. 

There followed a siege, bitter, vindictive, and 
prosecuted by the Indians with a pertinacity vastly 
different from their customary method of making war. 
But, as usual, they first resorted to strategy to gain 
a victory. Throughout the afternoon the settlers 
could plainly hear sounds that indicated they were 
breaking camp, and the next morning, while it was 
still dark, the splashing and clattering of horses as 
the crossed the river. Bugle calls by the Canadians 
resounded through the neighboring hills, growing 
fainter and fainter until they could no more be heard. 
But all the time, stealthily and noiselessly, the Indians 
were recrossing the Kentucky and hiding themselves 
along the trail that led from the stockade gate. 

It was a well-laid plan, but quite futile, for the Ken- 
tuckians had expected that some such scheme would 
be hatched by their crafty foe, and not one of them 
ventured forth. By noon, realizing that the strata- 
gem had failed, the Indians once more drew near 
Boonesborough, and raked it with a fire which did 
little damage because the covert in which they kept 
hidden was almost out of rifle-range. Creeping still 
nearer, protecting themselves behind trees, stumps, 
logs, and hillocks, they directed their bullets against 
every port-hole and crevice in the stockade; while 



Boone among the Indians 217 

the settlers, of necessity sparing of their ammunition, 
held their fire until they were sure of making every 
bullet count. 

Among the Indians was a runaway negro, an expert 
shot, who climbed a tree overlooking the stockade 
with the intention of picking off any settler that 
might chance to pass within range of his rifle. But 
he had fired only two or three shots when his position 
was detected, and a well-aimed bullet, said to have 
been discharged by Boone himself, brought the negro 
crashing to the ground, from which he rose no more. 
As was always the case, the Kentuckians were far 
better marksmen than the Indians, but the latter 
were so adept in concealment that it was extremely 
difficult to get a good shot at them. 

Victory for the invaders could not have been long 
delayed had De Ouindre been able to spur his tawny 
army to make a charge. Finding this impossible, he 
set a squad at work digging a mine which would en- 
able them either to blow up the fort or force an en- 
trance into it. Meantime an incessant firing was 
kept up to mask this movement. But an eagle-eyed 
settler, noticing a broad, muddy streak in the Ken- 
tucky, jumped to the conclusion that it was caused by 
dirt being thrown from an excavation beneath the 
river-bank; and Boone, who was in full charge of the 
defence, at once started a countermine that would 
cut into and expose the enemy's tunnel. 



21 8 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

More than once an attempt was made to burn the 
garrison out by hurling fire-brands on the cabin roofs, 
but the flames were quickly extinguished by brave 
volunteers, and drenching rains soon rendered this 
device useless. Still, there was imminent danger 
that the defenders would be overcome by sheer hunger 
and fatigue. For ten weary days and nights the 
Indians encircled the fort, while night and day the 
surrounding hills echoed with their taunting cries 
and the spiteful cracking of their rifles. Within its 
smoke-choked enclosure, their eyes reddened, their 
faces drawn and powder-grimed, the settlers stood 
doggedly at their posts, the women as well as the 
men constantly on the alert to repel a charge or detect 
any new stratagem. As Ranck, the historian of 
Boonesborough, has well said : — - 

"Even in this, the season of their greatest ex- 
tremity, there was no thought of surrender. Encom- 
passed overwhelmingly by the savage power of Eng- 
land, cut off from the world in the depths of a solitude 
vast and obscure, forgotten by the overburdened 
Continental Congress, unaided by hard-pressed Vir- 
ginia, worn out by privations and sorely tempted, 
the feeble little handful of * rebels' at Boonesborough 
were true to the last to the principles of the Revolu- 
tion and suffered as nobly for freedom and for coun- 
try as did the men of Bunker Hill or the shivering 
heroes of Valley Forge. " 



Boone among the Indians 219 

September 18, after a night of constant rain, day 
dawned without a renewal of the gun-fire that had 
for so long a time heralded sunrise. Not a sound 
came from the besiegers' camp. To Boone and his 
comrades the silence seemed ominous, and hastily 
snatching a slender breakfast, they redoubled their 
precautions to meet some unexpected move. But 
as the hours passed and the silence remained un- 
broken, the hope began to grow in their hearts that 
the Indians had raised the siege. One after another, 
wary scouts slipped out of the stockade, to hurry back 
at noon with the joyful news that the enemy had 
actually departed and were well on their way to the 
Ohio. 

The cause of their retreat was then ascertained. 
During the night, or the previous day, the big tunnel 
which they had been so laboriously constructing had 
caved in; and, never liking manual labor, it was 
evident that the Indians had refused to begin work 
on it anew, and, disgusted with their repeated failures 
to take the fort, had determined to return home. 
Had it not been for the presence of De Quindre and 
the Canadians, the red men would in all proba- 
bility have reached this decision long before, for per- 
sistency in attack has never been an Indian charac- 
teristic. But that, on this occasion, they had exerted 
themselves to the utmost to beat down the stubborn 
defence they encountered, is shown by the fact that 



220 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 



after their departure Boone and his men picked up a 
hundred and twenty-five pounds of flattened bullets 
which had been fired at the stockade; while it was 
estimated that a hundred pounds more had been 
lodged in the stout walls of a single blockhouse. 

Despite this extravagant expenditure of ammuni- 
tion the casualties within the fort had been amazingly 
small — only two men killed and four wounded. 
The Indian loss was far heavier, owing to the superior . 
marksmanship of the whites, and included, accord- | 
ing to an estimate by Boone, thirty-seven killed and 
probably twice as many wounded. It had been a 
signal victory, the more memorable because it 
marked the last attempt of the savages to capture 
Boonesborough. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE LAST YEARS OF THE WAR 

ONE week after the departure of the Indians, a 
company of militiamen arrived from Virginia, 
the reenforcement whose tardy coming had 
placed the settlers in such great peril. Boone, feel- 
ing that the fort was now in no immediate danger of 
attack, was anxious to start east at once for the pur- 
pose of bringing back his family. But ere he could 
do so, he was called upon to answer, before a court- 
martial at Logan's Fort, a series of sensational and 
most unjust charges. 

His accuser was none other than his old friend 
Richard Callaway, who had been steadily opposed 
to the policy of negotiating with the invaders. In 
his charges Callaway specifically asserted : — 

First, that Boone had unnecessarily surrendered 
the salt-makers at the Blue Lick. 

Second, that when a prisoner he engaged with 
Governor Hamilton to surrender the people of 
Boonesborough, who were to be removed to Detroit 
and Hve under British protection and jurisdiction. 

Third, that having returned from captivity he 

221 



222 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

encouraged a party of settlers to accompany him on 
an expedition into the Indian country, thereby 
weakening the garrison at a time when the arrival of 
an Indian army was daily expected. 

Fourth, that preceding the attack on Boonesbor- 
ough, he was wiUing to take the officers of the fort, 
on pretence of making peace, to the Indian camp, 
beyond the protection of the guns of the garrison. 

In effect, Callaway practically accused Boone of 
treason, an accusation which the vast majority of 
the settlers knew to be ridiculous, and it is not sur- 
prising that, after having heard his spirited defence, 
the court martial not only honorably acquitted him, 
but advanced him to the rank of major. A few weeks 
later he was journeying rapidly along the Wilder- 
ness Road, — his own road, as he might proudly have 
boasted, — eager to carry to his wife the glad assur- 
ance that he was still among the living. 

More than a year passed before he returned to Ken- 
tucky, which in the meanwhile, thanks to the confi- 
dence inspired by George Rogers Clark's victories, 
began to increase rapidly in population. New sta- 
tions and forts were established in the country around 
Boonesborough, and on tributary streams both north 
and south of the Kentucky, among the most promi- 
nent being Bryan's Station, on the North Fork of the 
Elkhorn; Bowman's, six miles east of Harrods- 
town; Estill's, on Muddy Creek; Ruddle's, on the 



The Last Years of the War 223 

South Licking; Martin's, five miles from Ruddle's; 
Hart's, or White Oak Spring Station, on the Ken- 
tucky, a mile north of Boonesborough ; Hoy's and 
Irvine's, to the south of Boonesborough; Grant's, 
five miles northeast of Bryan's; Harlan's, on Salt 
River; and Dutch Station, on Beargrass Creek. Dur- 
ing the same period (1779-81) the foundations v^ere 
laid of Lexington, v^hile Boonesborough, by an act 
of the Virginia Legislature, v^as elevated to the dignity 
of a town, and Kentucky v^as divided into three 
counties — Jefferson, Lincoln, and Fayette — each 
with its own administrative officials. 

All this activity in the way of settlement was bit- 
terly if ineffectively opposed by the Indians. There 
were frequent raids and counter-raids, in which the 
settlers suffered severely. In 1779, after Boone's 
departure for the Yadkin, Bowman and Logan 
headed an expedition against ChilKcothe, but were 
outfought by the Shawnees and compelled to retreat 
with a loss of nine killed and many more wounded. 
The following year, as an act of reprisal, a British 
officer. Colonel Byrd, brought a mixed force of 
Canadians and Indians into Kentucky, supported 
by six pieces of artillery, captured Ruddle's and 
Martin's stations, and returned to Detroit with three 
hundred prisoners, many of whom were cruelly tor- 
tured by the savages. George Rogers Clark, then 
commander-in-chief of the Western forces^, in return 



224 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

promptly organized an expedition against the Ind- 
ian town of Pickaway, whiclT he destroyed after a 
severe engagement that cost him the lives of seven- 
teen men. 

It was, however, through the marauding of indi- 
vidual Indians, or small war-parties of ten to twenty, 
that the American loss was heaviest, and the diffi- 
culties of settlement were most keenly felt. At any 
moment, returning from his day's labors in the field, 
the settler might be laid low by a bullet fired from 
ambush; or, if he reached home in safety, might 
find his cabin in ashes, with the mutilated corpses 
of his wife and children among the ruins. Many 
stories are told illustrative of the dangers that daily 
threatened the bold pioneers, the sufferings they en- 
dured, and the sacrifices they were obliged to make. 
Others afford a vivid idea of the unfailing courage, 
hardihood, and resourcefulness they displayed, no 
matter how great their peril. I quote one from John 
A. McClungs "Sketches of Western Adventure," 
an old work which, although not entirely trustworthy, 
is invaluable for the light it throws on the conditions 
attending the settlement and conquest of the early 
West. 

"In the spring of 1780," writes McClung, "Alex- 
ander McConnel, of Lexington, went into the woods 
on foot, to hunt deer. He soon killed a large buck, 
and returned home for a horse, in order to bring it 



The Last Years of the War 225 

in. During his absence a party of five Indians, on 
one of their usual skulking expeditions, accidentally 
stumbled on the body of the deer, and perceiving 
that it had been recently killed, they naturally sup- 
posed that the hunter would speedily return to secure 
the flesh. 

"Three of them, therefore, took their stations 
within close rifle-shot of the deer, while the other two 
followed the trail of the hunter and waylaid the path 
by which he was expected to return. McConnel, 
expecting no danger, rode carelessly along the path, 
which the two scouts were watching, until he had 
come within view of the deer, when he was fired upon 
by the whole party and his horse killed. While 
laboring to extricate himself from the dying animal, 
he was seized by his enemies, instantly overpowered, 
and borne off^ a prisoner. 

"His captors, however, seemed to be a merry, 
good-natured set of fellows, and permitted him to 
accompany them unbound; and, what was rather 
extraordinary, allowed him to retain his gun and 
hunting accoutrements. He accompanied them with 
great apparent cheerfulness during the day, and dis- 
played his dexterity in shooting deer for the use of 
the company, until they began to regard him with 
great partiaHty. 

"Having travelled with them in this manner for 
several days, they at length reached the banks of the 

Q 



226 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Ohio River. Heretofore the Indians had taken the 
precaution to bind him at night, although not very 
securely; but on that evening he remonstrated with 
them, and complained so strongly of the pain v^hich 
the cords gave him that they merely v^rapped the 
buffalo tug loosely around his wrists, and having 
tied it in an easy knot and attached the extremities 
of the rope to their own bodies, in order to prevent 
his moving without awakening them, they very com- 
posedly went to sleep, leaving the prisoner to follow 
their example or not as he pleased. 

"McConnel determined to effect his escape that 
night if possible, as on the following night they would 
cross the river, which would make it much more 
difficult. He therefore lay quietly until near mid- 
night, anxiously ruminating upon the best means of 
effecting his escape. Accidentally casting his eyes 
in the direction of his feet, they fell upon the glitter- 
ing blade of a knife which had escaped its sheath 
and was now lying near the feet of one of the Indians. 

"To reach it with his hands without disturbing 
the two Indians to whom he was fastened was im- 
possible, and it was very hazardous to attempt to 
draw it up with his feet. This, however, he at- 
tempted. With much difficulty he grasped the blade 
between his toes, and after repeated and long-con- 
tinued efforts, succeeded in bringing it within reach 
of his hands. 



The Last Years of the War 227 

"To cut his cords was then but the work of a 
moment, and gradually and silently extricating his 
person from the arms of the Indians he walked to 
the fire and sat down. He saw that his work was 
but half done; that if he should attempt to return 
home without destroying his enemies, he would as- 
suredly be pursued and probably overtaken, when 
his fate would be certain. On the other hand, it 
seemed almost impossible for a single man to succeed 
in a conflict with five Indians. He could not hope 
to deal a blow with his knife so silently and fatally 
as to destroy each one of his enemies in turn without 
awakening the rest. Their slumbers were prover- 
bially light and restless; and if he failed with a single 
one, he must instantly be overpowered by the sur- 
vivors. The knife, therefore, was out of the question. 

"After anxious reflection for a few minutes, he 
formed his plan. The guns of the Indians were 
stacked near the fire; their knives and tomahawks 
were in sheaths by their sides. The latter he dared 
not touch for fear of awakening their owners; but 
the former he carefully removed, with the exception 
of two, and hid them in the woods, where he knew the 
Indians would not readily find them. He then re- 
turned to the spot where the Indians were still sleep- 
ing, perfectly ignorant of the fate preparing for them, 
and taking a gun in each hand he rested the muzzles 
upon a log within six feet of his victims, and having 



228 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

taken deliberate aim at the head of one and the 
heart of another, pulled both triggers at the same 
moment. 

" Both shots were fatal. At the report of the guns 
the others sprang to their feet and stared wildly 
around them. McConnel who had run instantly 
to the spot where the other rifles were hid, hastily 
seized one of them and fired at two of his enemies, 
who happened to stand in a line with each other. 
The nearest fell dead, being shot through the body; 
the second fell also, bellowing loudly, but quickly 
recovering, limped off into the woods as fast as pos- 
sible. The fifth, and only one who remained unhurt, 
darted off like a deer, with a yell which announced 
equal terror and astonishment. McConnel, not 
wishing to fight any more such battles, selected 
his own rifle from the stack and made the best of 
his way to Lexington, where he arrived safely within, 
two days. 

"Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Dunlap, of Fayettel 
County, who had been several months a prisoner 
amongst the Indians on Mad River, made her escape 
and returned to Lexington. She reported that the 
survivor returned to his tribe with a lamentable tale. 
He related that they had taken a young hunter near 
Lexington, and had brought him safely as far as the 
Ohio; that while encamped upon the bank of the* 
river, a large party of white men had fallen upon 



The Last Years of the War 229 

them in the night, and killed all his companions, to- 
gether with the poor defenceless prisoner, who lay 
bound hand and foot, unable either to escape or 
resist/' 

The feat of shooting two Indians with a single 
bullet was, it seems, duplicated by our hero, Daniel 
Boone. According to the story, Boone, soon after 
his return to Kentucky with his wife and children, 
was making a solitary journey to the upper Blue Lick 
when, on the brow of a little hill descending to a 
broad creek, a rifle-ball whistled past his ear and 
scaled a piece of bark from a tree against which he 
had been leaning. 

Quick as thought he bounded down the hill, leaped 
into the creek, waded across, and, taking advantage 
of the cover afforded by a thick cane-brake, crept 
noiselessly through it, along the bank of the creek, 
until he had gone about a hundred yards down 
stream. Then he stealthily parted the cane and 
peered out, to behold two Indians cautiously approach- 
ing the opposite bank. 

Aiming his rifle at the foremost, he was astonished 
and delighted to see the other also come within range. 
As he did so, Boone fired, his bullet passing through 
the head of the first and lodging in the second's 
shoulder. The Indian who had been struck in the 
head fell dead without a groan; while the second, 
with a howl of pain and terror, dropped his gun and 



230 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

fled through the forest, leaving Boone to continue 
his journey undisturbed. 

In those dread times not only the men but also the 
women, and even young girls, were inspired to deeds 
of the greatest courage and heroism. Here is a story 
told by McClung, which may not be altogether accu- 
rate in detail, but which graphically and forcefully 
depicts the spirit displayed by the mothers of the 
early West in the perilous days of its first settlement : 

"One summer the house of John Merril, of Nelson 
County, was attacked by the Indians, and defended 
with singular address and good fortune. Merril 
was alarmed by the barking of a dog about midnight, 
and upon opening the door in order to ascertain the 
cause of the disturbance, he received the fire of six 
or seven Indians, by which his arm and thigh were 
both broken. He instantly sank upon the floor and 
called upon his wife to close the door. 

"This had scarcely been done, when it was vio- 
lently assailed by the tomahawks of the enemy and 
a large breach soon effected. Mrs. Merril, however, 
being a perfect Amazon both in strength and courage, 
guarded it with an axe, and successively killed or 
badly wounded four of the enemy as they attempted 
to force their way into the cabin. 

"The Indians then ascended the roof and at- 
tempted to enter by way of the chimney, but here 
again they were met by the same determined enemy. 



The Last Years of the War 231 

Mrs. Merril seized the only feather-bed which the 
cabin afforded, and hastily ripping it open, poured 
its contents upon the fire. A furious blaze and 
stifling smoke instantly ascended the chimney, and 
brought down two of the enemy, who lay for a few 
moments at her mercy. 

"Seizing the axe, she quickly despatched them, and 
was instantly afterwards summoned to the door, 
where the only remaining savage now appeared en- 
deavoring to effect an entrance while Mrs. Merril was 
engaged at the chimney. He soon received a gash 
in the cheek, which compelled him, with a loud yell, 
to relinquish his purpose and return hastily to Chil- 
Hcothe, where, from the report of a prisoner, he gave 
an exaggerated account of the fierceness, strength, 
and courage of the * long-knife squaw.'" 

But the dauntless bravery of the women of the 
West was never manifested more impressively than 
at the siege of Bryan's Station, a siege the more 
memorable because of its disastrous sequel at the 
lower Blue Lick, when the settlers of Kentucky, in 
a battle with the Indians, sustained the severest loss 
in all their stormy history. 

Bryan's Station was founded in 1779 by four 
brothers of that name from North CaroHna, the 
oldest of whom, William Bryan, had married a sister 
of Daniel Boone's. It stood, as was said above, on 
the North Fork of the Elkhorn, and was most advan- 



232 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

tageously situated on the sloping southern bank, 
about five miles northeast of Lexington. Like all 
of the early settlements of any importance, it con- 
sisted of a group of log-cabins arranged in a hollow 
square, connected with one another by a high stock- 
ade, and further protected by overhanging block- 
houses at the corners of the stockade. It was the 
largest station in Kentucky and considered one of the 
strongest. 

The Bryans, however, did not occupy it long. 
Early in 1780 it was decided by a land-court that the 
land on which they had built their station was within 
the limits of a survey made in 1774 for William Pres- 
ton, a Virginian, who had already traded it off to 
Joseph Rogers, also a resident of Virginia. With 
a carelessness common to the first settlers, the Bryans 
had failed to make sure that the site they selected 
had not been preempted, and although neither 
Preston nor Rogers had done anything to improve 
the land, they were ordered to vacate. 

Stubborn and strong-willed men that they were, 
they might have chosen to defy the decision of the 
court, had it not been for Byrd's expedition and the 
death of WiUiam Bryan, who was slain by the Ind- 
ians in May of 1780. The ease with which Byrd 
captured Ruddle's and Martin's stations, the cruel- 
ties practised on the prisoners, and the killing of their 
brother, convinced them that it was scarcely worth 



The Last Years of the War 233 

while to attempt to hold a home which was not 
legally theirs and from which, even if they fought off 
the Indians, they were certain to be ousted as soon 
as peace was established. During the summer, 
therefore, they journeyed back to North Carolina 
over the Wilderness Road, never to return to the 
station they had founded and with which their name 
became permanently associated. 

In their stead now came a company of settlers 
from Virginia, whose numbers were increased by 
later immigration until, by midsummer of 1782, 
there were twelve families at the station, besides 
twenty-five or thirty men — scouts, hunters, and 
surveyors — who made it their headquarters. Thus 
far it had been Httle troubled by the Indians, who, 
indeed, had been comparatively quiet since Clark's 
successful invasion of their country two years before. 
But, at sunset of Aug. 15, a messenger galloped up 
with news that the men of Holder's Station had been 
surprised and defeated by a large force of Indians 
at the upper Blue Lick, and that aid was needed from 
all the stations to hunt down the savages. The 
plan was, the messenger said, to rendezvous at 
Hoy's next day and thence march in search of the 
Indians. 

No one suspected the true strength or immediate 
object of this latest army of invasion. It was part 
of a large expedition organized in the spring by a 



234 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

British officer, Captain William Caldwell, for the 
purpose of destroying the West Virginia settlement 
of Wheeling. When near Wheeling, runners brought 
word to Caldwell that Clark was collecting an army 
for another raid on the Indian towns, and the con- 
templated attack on Wheeling was at once abandoned, 
the Indians hurrying back to defend their homes, 
which they found were in no danger whatever, as 
Clark had not crossed the Ohio and had no inten- 
tion of doing so. It was then too late to hope to 
surprise Wheeling, but Caldwell, rather than return 
to Detroit without striking a blow, proposed to his 
alHes to march with him into Kentucky. More than 
half of them refused, but the remainder — some 
five or six hundred, and including three hundred 
Wyandots, a tribe fiercer even than the Shawnees 
— gave their consent. 

A tradition, long accepted by Kentucky historians 
and still repeated by many writers, although with 
more or less hesitancy, declares that Caldwell would 
have failed to induce the Indians to take up his Ken- 
tucky enterprise, had it not been for a fiery speech by 
Simon Girty, who urged them to rise "in the majesty 
of their might" and destroy the whites whom Girty 
himself had so basely deserted. However this may 
be, there is good reason to believe that it was to Girty 
rather than to Caldwell that the Indians looked for 
leadership, and that his mind rather than Caldwell's 



The Last Years of the War 235 

conceived the plan of campaign which, while partially 
defeated, ultimately brought the savages a greater 
victory than they could possibly have anticipated. 

Boonesborough had by that time become too 
thickly surrounded by other settlements to be easily 
captured, but Bryan's Station, being somewhat iso- 
lated, offered a tempting prey. To make assurance 
doubly sure, some of the Indians were sent to Hoy's 
Station, with the idea both of concealing their real 
destination and, if possible, of enticing the different 
garrisons to a point remote from that at which they 
intended to strike. It was these Indians whom 
Holder's men had encountered, and in pursuit of 
whom the settlers were to start next day. Mean- 
time, while the men of Bryan's were making hurried 
preparations for departure, Caldwell and Girty and 
their blood-thirsty followers were silently closing in 
on them. 

Sunrise of Aug. 16 found the station completely 
hemmed in by the Indians, not one of whom, how- 
ever, was visible from the stockade. Girty, of 
course, was unaware that the garrison intended leav- 
ing for Hoy's. Had he known this, he need only have 
awaited their going in order to have made certain of 
an easy victory. As it was, he devised a cunning 
scheme that promised almost equally well. 

At his orders the main body of the Indians re- 
mained concealed in the weeds, long grass, and grow- 



236 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

ing corn between the rear of the station and the 
river, while a small company was posted among the 
trees along the broad trail that led to the front gate 
of the stockade, the intention being that they should 
keep hidden until daylight when they were boldly 
to show themselves. It was expected that the set- 
tlers would immediately rush out to attack them, 
upon which they were to retreat rapidly along the 
trail, shouting and firing as they ran to drown the 
noise made by their comrades, who would at the same 
time leap from their hiding-places and storm the 
station from the rear. 

A few years earlier this plan would undoubtedly 
have been effective. But the Kentuckians had 
learned much from bitter experience, and among 
the inhabitants of Bryan's Station were veterans who 
instantly penetrated the crafty device. Instead of 
sallying forth in response to the Indians' demonstra- 
tion, the gate of the stockade was firmly barred, and 
orders were given for every man to arm himself and 
prepare to repel any attack that might be made from 
behind. 

More than this, a counter-plot was formed, cal- 
culated to inflict tremendous damage on the Indians. 
Ten or twelve volunteers were to be sent out to attack 
the company on the trail, while the rest, posted at the 
port-holes, were to reserve their fire until the Indians 
among the undergrowth hurled themselves against 



The Last Years of the War 237 

the stockade, when they were to be given a volley 
that would greatly thin their ranks and send the sur- 
vivors scurrying back to cover. 

Now, however, an alarming discovery was made — 
the station was without a drop of water. Its sole 
source of supply was a spring at the foot of the slope 
leading down to the river, and located among the 
trees and grass where the Indians were in ambush. 
Yet without water it would be impossible to endure 
the siege which the invaders were certain to estab- 
hsh in case they failed to carry the day by a single 
blow. 

It was at this juncture that the women of Bryan's 
Station proved themselves the bravest and noblest 
of heroines. While all was confusion and anxiety; 
while, in excited whispers, the men were consulting 
together, Mrs. Jemima Sugget Johnson, the wife of 
Colonel Robert Johnson and mother of Colonel 
Richard M. Johnson, — afterwards a hero of the 
battle of the Thames and Vice-president of the 
United States, but then a tiny infant slumbering in a 
rough-hewed cradle, — quietly stepped forward and 
offered to conduct a party of women and girls to 
the Indian-surrounded spring. 

Every morning, she reminded her astonished 
hearers, it was the custom of the women to go to the 
spring and procure the day's supply of drinking water. 
There was just a chance that the Indians in their 



238 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

eagerness to surprise the garrison, would not molest 
them if they went out as usual. At any rate she was 
ready to go, and she was sure that her daughter 
Betsey, a little girl often, would accompany her, even 
if nobody else would. 

There was a moment's hesitation while the women 
gazed inquiringly into one another's faces. Then, 
one after the other, they announced their willingness 
to make the desperate attempt. The men would have 
dissuaded them had they not realized that this was 
the only possible means by which the all-essential 
water could be obtained. Buckets, piggins, noggins,^ 
gourds, — every utensil capable of holding water, — 
were hastily brought together, the rear gate of the 
stockade was thrown open, and the women and girls, 
twenty-eight in all, set out on their perilous journey. 

Along the narrow trail that wound down the hill 
to the spring, they leisurely made their way, laughing 
and chatting as though in entire ignorance of the 
danger threatening them. As they approached the 
undergrowth they could distinctly see, gleaming in 
the light of the morning sun, the ghnt of the Indians' 
rifle-barrels; and, here and there, a waving plume, 
a lithe, brown arm, and the glare of a savage eye. 
Not for an instant did they falter, but, advancing 

^ A piggin was a small wooden bucket with one upright stave for 
a handle; a noggin was a small wooden bucket with two upright 
staves for handles. 











< < 

pq -5 

fc, o 

O ;« 

i Q 






The Last Years of the War 239 

with apparent unconcern, dipped their buckets and 
gourds, their piggins and noggins, into the spring, 
and returned to the station at the same leisurely gait. 
It was a consummate piece of acting, a marvellous 
exhibition of self-control, and it completely deceived 
the Indians, who, intent on executing their original 
plan, permitted them to go and come unharmed. 

With their safe return the defenders of Bryan's 
Station hastened into action. While most of them 
stationed themselves at the port-holes overlooking the 
hill in the rear, the volunteers who were to engage the 
Indians on the trail dashed out, firing and shouting; 
making, in fact, such a tremendous noise that Girty 
felt certain his scheme had succeeded and that the 
entire garrison had left the station. Delaying no 
longer, he signalled to his followers to charge. 

Out of the cornfield, out of the weeds and the grass, 
sprang the Indians, leaping like panthers up the 
long hill, whooping and hallooing, and bearing in 
their midst the flaming torch, dread instrument of 
the destruction that would ensue if they broke 
through the stockade. At their head raced Mo- 
luntha, supreme in the leadership of the Shawnees 
since the death of Black Fish, who had fallen in 
battle not long after his futile siege of Boonesbor- 
ough ; close behind Moluntha came a stalwart Wyan- 
dot chieftain, wierdly streaked with war-paint. Nor 
was Girty outdistanced in the wild dash up the hill. 



240 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Nearing the station, the entire mass of Indians con- 
verged towards the stockade gate. On they came, 
rapidly on, while the settlers, silent as death, grimly 
set their Hps and waited. Still nearer they came. 
Then, at a hoarse word of command, a deadly volley 
flashed from every port-hole. Casting their rifles 
aside, and snatching others from the hands of their 
wives and daughters, the settlers fired again. 
Through the smoke could be heard howls of amaze- 
ment, wrath, and pain; and when the air had 
cleared, not an Indian was to be seen save those who 
had been laid low by the garrison's bullets. 

Still, even before they broke and fled, some had 
contrived to toss their torches over the stockade, 
and the crackling of flames from half a dozen cabins 
warned the settlers that they were menaced by a new 
peril. To the women and boys was given the task 
of quenching the blaze, while the men, now reen- 
forced by the volunteers from the trail, who had 
successfully regained the station, reloaded and 
awaited a second charge. 

But there was no second charge, the Indians choos- 
ing rather to adopt their usual tactics of assaihng 
the settlement with bullets and fire-arrows launched 
from cover. More than once a cabin-roof was set 
on fire, but the flames were quickly beaten out. 
Thus the morning passed. Early in the afternoon, 
to the chagrin of the savages, a small party of horse- 



The Last Years of the War 241 

men, summoned from Lexington by a messenger 
who had left Bryan's Station before the engagement 
began, forced their way through the Indians' hues 
and entered the station without the loss of a single 
man. Their arrival not merely strengthened the 
garrison, but brought the siege to a sudden end; 
for, realizing that the entire countryside would 
soon be aroused, the Indians, after continuing their 
attack until nightfall, started in full retreat to the 
Ohio. 

Next day three diflFerent relief parties, each about 
fifty strong, arrived from Boonesborough, Lexington, 
and Harrodstown. Among them were many of 
the best-known men in Kentucky. Foremost of all, 
of course, was Boone, burning to avenge the death 
of his brother Edward, who had been killed during 
an earlier Indian invasion. With Boone came his 
oldest living son, Israel, grown to be a fine, stalwart 
young fellow of twenty-three. John Todd, who 
will be remembered as one of the first settlers and 
a member of the short-lived Transylvania House of 
Delegates, commanded the troops from Lexington, 
and associated with him was his brother Levi. 
The Harrodstown contingent was led by Stephen 
Trigg, who, although a resident of Kentucky for 
only three years, had won an enviable reputation 
for daring and courage; and it also included the 
fiery Hugh McGary, Silas Harlan, a tried leader 



242 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

of men, and William McBride, a redoubtable Ind- 
ian fighter. 

In addition to these three companies, it was known 
that Benjamin Logan was raising troops in the 
neighborhood of Logan's Fort. But, at a council 
of war held in Bryan's Station, it was decided not 
to wait for Logan, as, in case he should be delayed, 
the enemy would be sure to escape scot-free. There 
were some who pointed out that, even including the 
garrison of Bryan's, the total force then available 
was far less than that of the Indians; but the ma- 
jority were in favor of hastening after them, and, 
on Aug. 18, the pursuit was begun, the Kentuckians 
marching in three divisions commanded respectively 
by Boone, Trigg, and Levi Todd, while John Todd, 
as the senior militia officer present, acted as com- 
mander-in-chief. 

The route taken by the Indians was soon ascer- 
tained, and, pressing forward with great rapidity, 
the settlers by noon came to the place where the 
enemy had encamped the previous night. This was on 
the bank of Hinkston Creek, near the site of Millers- 
burg. Thence the trail led to the lower Blue Lick, 
which was reached early in the morning of the nine- 
teenth. All along the way, however, were signs 
indicating to the experienced veterans in the little 
army that the Indians were courting rather than 
evading pursuit; and before fording the Licking 



The Last Years of the War 243 

another council of war was called, at which Boone 
declared that it would be madness to proceed with- 
out Logan's reenforcements, as the enemy were 
almost certainly setting a trap. This wise counsel 
might have been heeded had not McGary, with 
a taunting cry, spurred his horse into the river, 
swinging his rifle above his head, and exclaiming: — 

"Delay is dastardly ! Let all who are not cowards 
follow me ! " 

With excited shouts the Kentuckians plunged in, 
helter skelter, and it was with difficulty that their 
officers reformed them into companies on the op- 
posite bank. 

Here the trail ran up a broad ridge, rocky and 
barren, but with timber-filled ravines extending down 
from both sides of the ridge. Among the trees of 
these ravines the Indians lay in perfect concealment 
until the pursuers had reached a point where they 
were completely exposed to a cross-fire. Then, at a 
prearranged signal, a few scattering shots rang out, 
followed by a furious fusillade. 

FHnging their rifles away, the Wyandots, with 
a fury that appalled even the stout-hearted Ken- 
tuckians, charged into the open, tomahawk in hand, 
to grapple like demons with those who had survived 
the carnage of the first attack. For a few minutes, 
fighting shoulder to shoulder, the settlers stood their 
ground. But, raked by a galling fire from the 



244 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Shawnees, who now advanced at the double, they 
gradually gave way, and then, pressed still harder, 
broke into a mad flight. 

It could scarcely be called a battle, so quickly was 
it at an end. Rather it was a massacre, a butchery, 
a pitiless hewing down. All who, escaping the toma- 
hawk, plunged headlong to the river and sought 
safety by swimming, found themselves assailed by 
a hail of bullets. Among the first to fall, after the 
retreat became general, was young Israel Boone, 
fatally wounded. His father, fighting manfully up 
to that moment, hurled his rifle aside with a groan 
of despair, lifted his son from the ground, and, stagger- 
ing under the burden, leaped down the rocky slope. 
But ere he reached the other side of the river the boy 
was beyond human aid, and Boone himself with 
difficulty escaped the vengeful Indians scouring the 
forest in quest of fugitives. 

Of the army that had so gallantly, though reck- 
lessly, responded to McGary's challenging appeal, 
nearly seventy were left dead on the field, while 
four were carried off* to the Indian towns and tor- 
tured to death. The commander-in-chief, JohnTodd, 
was among the slain, as were Trigg, Harlan, and 
McBride. The mortality among the officers was, 
indeed, remarkably high, only seven escaping, and 
these with more or less severe wounds. To add to 
the bitterness of the defeat, as the survivors ap- 



The Last Years of the War 245 

preached Bryan's Station they were met by Logan 
with an army of almost five hundred men, a force 
which, in conjunction with their own, would have 
overwhelmed the enemy had they only heeded Boone's 
warning. 

It was then too late to do anything but bury the 
dead, as, on advancing rapidly, Logan found that 
the Indians had crossed the Ohio immediately after 
the battle, and were secure in the tangled fastnesses 
of their own country. But from all over Kentucky 
rose a loud and insistent demand for vengeance. 
The Indians must be punished as they had never 
been before. Late in October, therefore, in response 
to a call from George Rogers Clark, a thousand 
mounted riflemen came together at the mouth of 
the Licking, and from the site of Cincinnati marched 
through the Ohio forests to the Indian towns on the 
Little Miami. 

The red men, taken wholly by surprise, fled with- 
out offering the sHghtest resistance, leavmg the 
Kentuckians free to ravage and destroy at will. 
No fewer than five towns in the region where Girty's 
army had assembled in August were put to the torch, 
and immense stores of grain and dried meats were 
destroyed, thus entaiKng great suffering among the 
Shawnees throughout the approaching winter. 

It was, however, the one and only sure means of 
protecting Kentucky. Overcome by the severity 



246 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

of the blow, and further weakened by the withdrawal 
of British support as a result of the ending of the 
Revolution, the Indians never again invaded Ken- 
tucky in force. They did, it is true, for some years 
maintain an irregular warfare, small parties making 
incursions among the settlements or waylaying trav- 
ellers down the Ohio River and along the Wilder- 
ness Road. But no longer were they the constant 
menace they had been ever since that fateful day, 
more than six years before, when Boonesborough 
was first besieged. 



CHAPTER XIV 

PIONEERING IN WATAUGA 

THRILLING events had meanwhile been in 
progress at the other end of the Wilderness 
Road, in the Watauga country, where, as we 
have seen, James Robertson and John Sevier had 
laid the foundations of the present State of Tennessee 
some half-dozen years before Kentucky was opened 
up to civilization. For more than a decade the Wa- 
tauga settlers were exposed to a succession of Indian 
wars almost as severe as those in Kentucky; through- 
out the Revolution they were harassed not only 
by Indians, but even by men of their own blood, 
Americans who refused to adhere to the movement 
for Independence and fought bitterly to reestablish 
British domination ; and towards the close of the great 
struggle they were called on to take part in one of its 
most memorable battles, the battle of King's Moun- 
tain. Yet through all this they more than held their 
own ; progressing, in fact, so remarkably that before 
the close of the Revolution they were able to under- 
take, by way of the Wilderness Road, a coloniza- 
tion movement that extended the southwest frontier 

247 



248 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

far into the inland wilds, and had as an immediate 
result the founding of what is now the political centre 
of Tennessee, the city of Nashville. 

At the beginning of the Revolution the Watauga 
settlements had a total population of about six 
hundred, but up to that time had been leading an 
absolutely independent existence as a self-governing 
community organized according to the Articles of 
Association described in our fifth chapter. In 1776 
they determined, both as a measure of self-defence 
and as a means of testifying their loyalty to the 
Revolutionary cause, to throw in their fortunes defi- 
nitely with the people of North Carolina, and they 
therefore petitioned the Provincial Council to annex 
Watauga to North CaroHna "in such manner as will 
enable us to share in the glorious cause of Liberty, 
enforce our laws under authority, and in every respect 
become the best members of society." The petition 
was granted, and Watauga was formally annexed 
under the name of Washington District, being after- 
wards subdivided into three counties, Washington, 
Sullivan, and Greene. 

The change of government, however, affected the 
life of the settlers but little. Beyond forming county 
organizations and enacting a few special laws — 
such as a pension law for the benefit of the widows 
and orphans of Wataugans slain in the service of 
the Revolution — North Carolina left its new citizens 



Pioneering in Watauga 249 

pretty much to their own devices. They still had 
to rely almost entirely on themselves, they v^ere 
virtually as independent as before, and the manage- 
ment of affairs remained in the hands of those vv^ho 
had won public confidence during the Association 
period. 

Preeminent in this respect were Robertson, 
Sevier, and Evan and Isaac Shelby, each of whom 
might not ineptly be compared to a Highland chief- 
tain surrounded by a hand of intensely loyal clans- 
men. Each of them, too, had many of the char- 
acteristics of the traditional Highland chieftain — 
the fiery temper, the hot, fighting blood, the restless 
spirit, the great muscular strength, the marvellous 
power of endurance. With the exception of Sevier, 
who had inherited from his Huguenot ancestors a rich 
fund of tact and courtesy, they were, like the ancient 
Highlanders, rough and uncouth. But they were 
precisely the kind of leaders best qualified to inspire 
and sustain their followers through the dread years 
of merciless carnage that marked the struggle for 
independence as fought beyond the mountains. 

Long before the Indians were actually upon them 
they made their preparations for defence. It was 
known that an agent of the British was actively 
intriguing among the Cherokees, and that the war- 
belt had been carried to them by emissaries from the 
Shawnees, Delawares, and other of the Northern 



250 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

tribes already ruthlessly endeavoring to exterminate 
the pioneers of Kentucky. But even so, the first 
blow struck against the Wataugans almost caught 
them unawares. July 7, 1776, an Indian woman, 
who had always been friendly to the whites, visited 
a settler named Thomas and warned him that a 
large expedition was about to start northward with 
the intention of destroying all the settlements up to 
and beyond the Virginia line, thus opening a way 
for later expeditions to penetrate into the western 
counties of Virginia and cooperate with the British 
in their attempt to subjugate the Southern States. 
Thomas, as may be imagined, was soon on his way 
north, spreading this dire news. 

In a few days every outlying cabin was deserted, 
the inhabitants fleeing for protection to the nearest 
forts. Chief among these were Fort Watauga, 
where Robertson and Sevier were in command, and 
Fort Eaton, erected at the suggestion of William 
Cocke, who, it will be remembered, had played a 
gallant role in the founding of Kentucky, but had 
returned east shortly after Boonesborough was built. 
It was expected that Fort Eaton would be the first 
attacked, and in fact a strong force of Cherokees 
soon marched against it, led by a greatly dreaded 
chieftain, Dragging Canoe — the same chieftain, by 
the way, who had prophesied to Boone, at the time 
of the Sycamore Shoals Treaty in 1775, that the 



1 



Pioneering in Watauga 251 

Kentuckians would find it hard to hold the land they 
bought from the Cherokees. 

Dragging Canoe, not without reason, believed 
that Fort Eaton was almost defenceless. But in the 
ten days that had passed since the settlers received 
their warning, five companies of militiamen had 
been rushed to that fort from the border counties 
of Virginia, bringing the total strength of the garrison 
close to two hundred. Scouts were sent out daily 
to watch for the enemy's approach, and when, on 
July 20, it was learned that the Indian army was 
drawing near the fort, the entire garrison marched out 
to give battle. 

They had not gone far when they fell in with a party 
of twenty Cherokees, whom they easily put to flight. 
But, while giving instant pursuit, they now advanced 
with the greatest caution, fearing that this vanguard 
of the enemy might be merely a decoy detachment 
sent forward to lure them into an ambuscade. Late 
in the afternoon, having seen no further signs of the 
Indians, and believing that they now planned a night 
attack on the fort, orders were given to hurry back. 
Only a few minutes more, however, and their rear 
was unexpectedly assailed by the whole of Dragging 
Canoe's force. Evidently a trap had actually been 
set, and though the garrison had failed to walk 
into it the Cherokees were still hopeful of over- 
whelming them. And at first it looked, in truth, 



252 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

as though the tragedy at the Blue Lick would be 
repeated. 

Emptying their rifles in one withering volley, the 
Indians did not wait to reload, but leaped upon the 
rear-guard with a swiftness that gave them no time 
either to seek cover or form for battle. Driven ir- 
resistibly forward, they brought confusion into the 
ranks of those ahead. But, rallying, the settlers 
quickly spread out in two long, narrow lines, so that 
they could not be outflanked, and, taking sure aim 
at the oncoming horde of savages, instantly checked 
their rush.^ A fight of the usual backwoods type 
followed, both sides firing at each other from behind 
trees; and in the end, after Dragging Canoe had 
fallen, severely wounded, the Indians fled, leaving 
thirteen of their dead to be scalped by the victors. 

That night, according to ever doubtful tradition, 
an express rider was sent to carry the glad tidings 
to Robertson and Sevier at Fort Watauga. "A 
great day's work in the woods!" was Sevier's re- 
ported comment when the news reached him. 

* Tradition has been exceedingly busy with this battle in the 
Tennessee wilderness, and has woven about it many romantic but 
highly improbable tales. According to one often-repeated story, 
the prowess of Isaac Shelby and four other backwoodsmen, who 
held the Indians in check while their comrades were forming a line 
of battle, alone averted a terrible disaster. But Shelby was on a 
visit to Kentucky at this time. 



Pioneering in Watauga 253 

But it was out of the question for him to attempt 
to duplicate the achievement of the men from Fort 
Eaton. He had only forty men to oppose to the far 
greater force hurled against Fort Watauga by another 
powerful chieftain, Oconostota. His only hope 
lay in exhausting the patience of the savages by 
maintaining a stubborn defence behind the stout 
palisades, and this he did to such good effect that for 
nearly three weeks the Cherokees were held at bay. 
Then, learning that Dragging Canoe had abandoned 
the siege of Fort Eaton, and that reenforcements 
were coming to Sevier's aid, Oconostota, baffled and 
dispirited, hurried his warriors back to their wigwam 
homes. The first attempt to cleave open a path to 
Virginia had ended in disastrous failure. 

Very different was the outcome of a retaliatory 
expedition undertaken a few weeks later by a com- 
bined force of Virginians and Wataugans. Its 
commander was Colonel WilHam Christian, a Vir- 
ginian, while Robertson marched at the head of 
the Watauga troops and Sevier led the advance with 
a picked company of scouts. Nearly two thousand 
men took part in this expedition. From the starting- 
point on the Holston there was incessant skirmishing 
in which Sevier and his scouts acquitted themselves 
with the greatest credit. Not once, however, did 
the Indians venture to give open battle, and finally, 
appalled by the danger that threatened them, they 



254 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

sent a messenger with a flag of truce to sue for 
peace. 

The backwoods army had by that time reached 
the border of the Cherokee country, and was en- 
camped on the bank of the French Broad, one of 
the upper tributaries of the Tennessee River. Chris- 
tian's reply to the Cherokee envoy was curt and to the 
point. He had come, he said, to destroy the Cherokee 
towns, and after he had done that, not before, he 
would talk of peace. That night, leaving half his 
followers in camp, he forded the French Broad and 
made a rapid march to surprise the Indians in their 
encampment. But they had expected some such 
move, and had already fled to their doomed villages. 

Thenceforward no opposition whatever was off'ered 
to the advance of the whites. For two weeks Chris- 
tian moved from village to village, burning their 
cabins and destroying the stores of grain and potatoes 
which the Indians had laid in to carry them through 
the winter. Not until the Cherokees had sur- 
rendered every prisoner they had taken, and every 
horse they had stolen from the settlements, and had 
agreed to pay a heavy indemnity in land, did he 
accede to their frantic appeals for peace. 

There were many warriors, however, who took no 
part in the peace negotiations. Headed by the 
implacable Dragging Canoe, they fled westward, 
to form, with adventurous members of the Creek, 



Pioneering in Watauga 255 

Chickasaw, and other Southwestern tribes, a rude 
confederacy banded together to make war on the 
white man. For the next few years the Watauga 
settlements frequently suffered from raids by these 
red outlaws, and as frequently there were retaliatory 
raids that resulted in a constant weakening of the 
Indians' power. In this work no one was more con- 
spicuous than Sevier, who, putting himself at the 
head of a body of mounted riflemen, repeatedly har- 
ried the Cherokees, the swiftness of his movements 
rendering it possible for him to take them by sur- 
prise and escape to Watauga before a strong enough 
force could be gathered to cut him off. 

On one occasion, in the winter of 1780-81, he 
entered the Indian country with fewer than three 
hundred men, laid a successful ambuscade for a 
Cherokee war-party, and, after routing it, laid waste 
several towns, burning a thousand cabins and destroy- 
ing fifty thousand bushels of grain. Two months 
afterwards he led a still smaller force one hundred 
and fifty miles through a wilderness hitherto un- 
trodden by the white man, to burst like a thunder- 
bolt upon a cluster of Indian villages in the hollows 
of the Great Smoky Mountains, burn five of these 
villages, kill thirty warriors, and return unscathed 
to his home on the Nolichucky. To Sevier's daring 
forays, more than to any other single cause, must 
be attributed the final subjugation of the Cherokees 



256 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and the establishment of permanent peace in east 
Tennessee. 

Yet he was not a mere "fighting man," like so 
many of the border notables. He was a born leader 
of men in peace as well as in war, and to the day of 
his death, which occurred in 1815, he remained the 
foremost figure in his section of the country. When, 
after the Revolution, east Tennessee, exasperated 
at its treatment by North Carolina, attempted to 
embark on its own account as the independent State 
of Franklin, he was the man chosen by its people 
to direct the destinies of this short-lived common- 
wealth. When Tennessee became a State, it was 
to Sevier that the Tennesseeans turned for their first 
governor, and he is recognized by Tennessee his- 
torians as one of the best governors that State has 
had. The last years of his life found him still serving 
Tennessee, as one of its representatives in Congress. 
VaHant, courteous, masterful, and true, his was 
assuredly a career of brilliant achievement. 

But, in the days with which we are concerned, 
Sevier's chief claim to fame was based on his 
exploits as a soldier. It was a time of almost con- 
stant warfare, not only with the Indian but also, 
as was said, with those of the same blood as the 
Wataugans, for there was a numerous Tory element 
in the border settlements that had to be repressed 
with a stern hand. There was, moreover, always 



I 




John Sevier 



Pioneering in Watauga 257 

the danger that, in the event of British success in 
the Southern States, Watauga and the neighboring 
settlements of transmontane Virginia would be over- 
run by invasion. So imminent did this danger at one 
time become that, to avert it, the borderers organized 
an expedition that took them far from their homes 
and culminated in a victory as glorious as it was 
astonishing. 

As is well known, the year 1780 was, from the 
American point of view, the most disastrous of the 
entire Revolution. Even Washington " almost ceased 
to hope." It was marked by a succession of British 
victories, particularly in Georgia and the Carolinas, 
where Cornwallis and his able lieutenants, Rawdon, 
Tarleton, and Ferguson, proved more than a match 
for the American commanders sent against them. 
After the conquest of the seaboard cities, Cornwallis 
despatched Tarleton and Ferguson with orders to 
subdue the "back counties" and organize regiments 
of loyal inhabitants — the hated Tories — to assist 
the British in their further operations. Both officers 
executed their orders with alacrity, thoroughness, and 
unfailing success, until, early in the autumn, Fer- 
guson found his westward progress opposed by the 
mountain wall. 

He then learned, perhaps for the first time, that 
beyond the mountains were a few scattered settle- 
ments of strong "rebel" tendencies, and, through 



258 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

a prisoner whom he released on parole, he imme- 
diately sent word that if the mountaineers did not 
"desist from their opposition to the British arms," 
he would march his army over the mountains, hang 
the leaders, and lay waste the country. 

So far from alarming the Wataugans, his threat 
aroused an instant determination to strike him before 
he could strike them. Within a few days more than 
a thousand men were assembled at the Sycamore 
Shoals of the Watauga. They included a contingent 
of five hundred from the Virginia settlements, under 
William Campbell, a famous Indian fighter and 
implacable in his hatred of the British and their 
Tory supporters; two hundred and forty under 
Sevier; a like number under Isaac Shelby, and nearly 
two hundred refugees who had fled across the moun- 
tains after a vain effort to check Ferguson's trium- 
phant march. 

Nearly all were well mounted, and all were armed 
in regulation backwoods style — that is to say, with 
rifle, tomahawk, and hunting-knife. A few, though 
very few, of the officers carried swords. Only the 
lightest baggage was taken along, the hope being 
to make a rapid passage of the mountains and give 
Ferguson no time to prepare a strong defence. 

It is worthy of remark that before setting out, on 
September 26, 1780, this rude, rough, undisciplined 
army gathered in an open grove to listen to a sermon 



Pioneering in Watauga 259 

preached by the first clergyman to settle in that region, 
the Rev. Samuel Doak, who, in words of burning 
zeal, exhorted them to go forth and smite their enemies 
with the sword of the Lord and of Gideon. 

Three days later, after a terrible journey over what 
Shelby afterwards described as "the worst route ever 
followed by an army of horsemen," they descended 
the eastern slope of the Blue Ridge, not far from the 
North Fork of the Catawba in North Carolina, and 
began their search for Ferguson, who, they were 
told, was encamped near Gilbert Town. En route 
they elected William Campbell commander-in-chief, 
and received reenforcements that brought their 
total strength up to about fifteen hundred. 

This was more than Ferguson could muster, for, 
not expecting to be attacked, he had allowed many 
of his Tory recruits to go home on furlough. Wisely, 
therefore, he broke camp and fled, turning and twist- 
ing among the mountains in the hope of baflfling 
pursuit. But he soon found that the backwoodsmen 
were not to be shaken off", and when, on the even- 
ing of October 6, he crossed into South Carolina, 
he halted his army on the stony slope of King's 
Mountain, just south of the North Carolina line, 
and made ready to give battle, confident that he 
had taken a position from which "all the rebels out- 
side of hell," as he defiantly put it, could not dis- 
lodge him. 



26o Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

It was noon of the next day before the mountaineers 
were informed of his exact location by two Tories 
whom they captured. By that time their number had 
dwindled to less than a thousand, — or about as many 
as Ferguson had with him, — those who had become 
too exhausted to continue the pursuit having been 
weeded out a couple of days before. According to 
all the rules of warfare it was madness to attack a 
numerically equal force situated to such great ad- 
vantage as Ferguson's men were, and having the 
further advantage of being armed with bayonets, 
while not a backwoodsman possessed this exceedingly 
useful weapon. But the men in buckskin knew 
nothing of, and cared less for, the rules of warfare, 
and boldly decided to push ahead, surround Fergu- 
son, and storm his position. 

As they marched they formed their army for the 
coming battle. The right centre was composed of 
Campbell's troops, the left centre of Shelby's; Sevier 
took command of the right wing; the left was under 
the command of Benjamin Cleveland, a patriotic 
North Carolinian who had joined with three hundred 
and fifty men. When close to King's Mountain, all 
dismounted and advanced on foot, the wings spread- 
ing out so as to approach the British camp from 
opposite sides. The orders given to all were to stand 
their ground as long as possible, but, if attacked by 
the bayonet, to give way and then rally for another 



Pioneering in Watauga 261 

charge. So swift were their movements that they 
were almost upon the British commander before he 
knew of their presence. 

As the Americans swarmed up the hill, Ferguson, 
who was to prove himself a second Braddock for 
bull-dog grit, ordered his troops to fix bayonets and 
charge down upon them. For nearly ten minutes 
the whole burden of the battle fell on Campbell's 
and Shelby's men, Sevier and Cleveland being de- 
layed in getting into position. Each man, in back- 
woods fashion, fought for himself, making use of 
every inch of cover. So incessant was the rifle-fire 
that, tradition says, "the mountain was covered with 
smoke and flame, and seemed to thunder." Fer- 
guson's advancing column, massed in close formation, 
suffered fearfully. Still they kept on, and before 
the resistless pressure of the bayonets the American 
centre was shattered and driven back. 

Now, from points higher up the mountain, the two 
wings attacked the British. Ferguson, undaunted, 
turned his bayonets against these new foes. As he 
did so, Campbell and Shelby again brought their 
men into action. Bewildered, the bayonet men 
charged to and fro, the Americans invariably fleeing 
before them, but returning to the assault the instant 
pursuit ceased. 

Every moment the defenders' ranks became thin- 
ner, while the agile and hardy backwoodsmen, quick 



262 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

of foot and skilled in the tactics of forest warfare, 
sustained comparatively little loss. Ferguson, realiz- 
ing that the battle was going against him, hurled 
his men forward again and again, in a vain effort 
to turn the tide and snatch victory from defeat. 
With reckless bravery he rode along the lines, waving 
a sword and imploring his followers not to let the 
"rebels" rout them. Two horses were killed under 
him, but with the same desperate valor he continued 
to lead the bayonet charges until at last, as he galloped 
full speed against Sevier's Wataugans, their fire was 
concentrated upon him, and he fell to the ground 
pierced by half a dozen bullets. 

Ten minutes afterwards the Americans gained 
the crest of the ridge where the British camp stood. 
The end could not be long delayed. Huddled in 
a confused mass among their tents and baggage- 
wagons the broken remnants of Ferguson's army 
despairingly hoisted the white flag. Many of the 
backwoodsmen did not know what it meant; others 
deliberately disregarded it, until Campbell, rushing 
among them with his sword pointed to the ground, 
called upon them in God's name to cease firing. 

Ignored or slighted by many historians, this was 
in reality one of the decisive battles of the Revolution. 
On the one hand, it ruined the Southern campaign 
of the British, compelling Cornwallis to abandon his 
plan for the conquest of North CaroHna, and spurring 



Pioneering in Watauga 263 

the patriots of the South to a renewed activity that 
bore abundant fruit the following year. On the 
other hand, it insured the safety not simply of the 
Watauga settlements, but of the settlements planted 
by Boone and his comrades in faraway Kentucky. 

Had Ferguson been able to cross the mountains 
and carry out his threat of ravaging Watauga, the 
one obstacle to Indian invasion of Kentucky from 
the south would have been removed; the Cherokee 
and the Creek, sweeping westward along the Wil- 
derness Road, could have united with the northern 
tribes to hem in the Blue Grass settlers ; cut off com- 
pletely from reenforcements and supplies, the people 
of Kentucky must inevitably have perished, Clark 
would have been obHged to rehnquish his grip of the 
IlKnois country, and the whole West would have once 
more become a British possession. 

Not without reason have the men who fought and 
won the battle of King's Mountain been called the 
"Rear-guard of the Revolution." 



CHAPTER XV 

FROM WATAUGA TO THE CUMBERLAND 

THERE were few prominent Wataugans who did 
not take part in the battle of King's Mountain, 
but there was one conspicuous absentee — the 
founder of the Httle settlements from which the vic- 
tors came. It was not cowardice, however, that held 
James Robertson back. While Shelby and Sevier 
were marching across the mountains to strike so 
vahantly for home and country, Robertson was 
engaged on a mission no less hazardous than theirs 
and fraught with equally important consequences. 
Far out in the West with a company of loyal fol- 
lowers, he was establishing another American com- 
munity and thereby laying deeper the foundations of 
the present State of Tennessee. The record of 
Robertson's achievements in the valley of the Cum- 
berland forms one of the most interesting passages 
in the history of the early West and of the Wilderness 
Road. 

Just when or why Robertson decided to leave 
Watauga and seek a new home on the bank of the 
westward-flowing Cumberland, it is impossible to 

264 



From Watauga to the Cumberland 265 

say with absolute certitude. But it is known that 
he acted largely under the influence of Richard Hen- 
derson, the ambitious land-speculator and colonizer 
of Transylvania fame. Although, by the joint action 
of the Transylvanians and the Virginia Assembly, 
Henderson had been compelled to relinquish his hold 
of Kentucky, North Carolina had not as yet proceeded 
against him, and he promptly went to work to dis- 
pose of the western lands within its borders purchased 
by him from the Cherokees. The terms he offered 
were so extremely Hberal that many were tempted 
by them, and among others James Robertson. 

Now history began to repeat itself. Precisely as 
he had done in the case of Transylvania, Henderson 
organized a company of pioneers to spy out the land 
and select sites for settlement. Robertson willingly 
agreed to take charge of this work, and, in the spring 
of 1779, started west with eight companions, the 
understanding being that after they had found a 
suitable location they were to sow corn, build 
cabins, and erect stockades; and were then to return 
to Watauga for their families and any other settlers 
who might wish to join them. This was the course 
that had been followed in the founding of Boones- 
borough, and, like the builders of Boonesborough, 
Robertson and his party struck off for the West by 
way of Cumberland Gap and Boone's Wilderness 
Road. 



266 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

But, unlike Boone and his road-makers, they had 
no Felix Walker to chronicle the adventures that 
befell them on their journey. Not even the route 
they took can be accurately described. All that is 
known is that they continued along the Wilderness 
Road to the Cumberland River, crossed the Cumber- 
land, and turned to the southv^est, threading their 
v^ay through the w^ilderness by Indian trail and 
buffalo trace until they reached the Great Bend of 
the Cumberland, v^here Nashville novs^ stands. This 
seemed to them an ideal spot for settlement, and 
they at once began felling trees and shaping logs for 
the building of their future homes. 

There v^as some doubt in their minds, hov^ever, 
w^hether the site they had chosen came within the 
limits of Kentucky or North Carolina the boundary- 
line not having as yet been run so far west. Accord- 
ingly, while four of the men returned to bring out the 
settlers, and three remained *'to keep the buffaloes 
out of the corn,'' Robertson journeyed north to dis- 
tant Kaskaskia to visit George Rogers Clark, who 
was understood to have authority to sell cabin-rights 
to intending settlers in Kentucky. He might have 
spared himself this long and hazardous trip, for the 
boundary was soon afterwards officially determined, 
and it was found that the Cumberland settlements 
were on North Carolina soil. 

On his way back Robertson met a large party of 



From Watauga to the Cumberland 267 

homeseekers bound for western Kentucky, and with- 
out much urging persuaded them to change their 
destination and accompany him to the Cumberland. 
Meantime other settlers had arrived at the Bend, 
from Virginia and South Carolina, and were scattered 
in small groups for several miles up and down the 
river. So steady was the stream of immigration 
that within a twelvemonth eight stations were estab- 
lished, the largest of which was named Nashborough, 
— afterwards Nashville, — while the others were 
called Gasper's, Eaton's, Bledsoe's, Stone's River, 
Asher's, Freeland's, and Fort Union. Nashborough 
was so named in honor of Governor Nash of North 
Carohna,^ while the others were in most cases named 
after their principal settlers. 

Thus far comparatively few families had come out, 
owing to the difficulty of transporting household 
goods along the Wilderness Road and the still nar- 
rower Indian trails from the Wilderness Road to 
Nashborough. But in the winter of 1779-80 a large 
expedition was organized, under the command of 
John Donelson, father of the Rachel Donelson who 
became the wife of Andrew Jackson, and, had 
she lived, would have been mistress of the White 
House. Robertson's family accompanied this expe- 

^ Also said, however, to have been named in honor of General 
Francis Nash, who was fatally wounded at the battle of German- 
town, October 4, 1777. 



268 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

dition, which went by water down the Tennessee and 
up the Ohio and Cumberland, and was so large and 
well equipped as to fill a flotilla of about thirty "flat- 
boats, dug-outs, and canoes." The story of its ad- 
ventures en route to Nashborough, as told in a journal* 
kept by Donelson himself, reads, as some one has said, 
like a chapter out of one of Mayne Reid's novels. 

The Adventure was the *' flag-ship" of the flotilla, 
and was a large flat-boat in which were more than 
thirty men and their families. Although a start 
was made December 22, 1779, low water and 
heavy frosts so delayed progress that the voyage 
did not really begin until February 27, of the 
following year, when the flotilla left Cloud Creek, 
a tributary of the Holston. Except for occasionally 
running aground all went well until the Tennessee 
was reached. March 7 the adventurers passed a 
deserted Chickamauga village, and the following 
day arrived at another that was not deserted. 

"The inhabitants," writes Donelson, "invited us 
to come ashore, called us brothers, and showed other 
signs of friendship, insomuch that Mr. John Caff'rey 
and my son, then on board, took a canoe which I had 

^ The full title is '^ Journal of a Voyage intended by God's 
Permission, in the good Boat Adventure, from Fort Patrick' Henry, 
on Holston River, to the French Salt Springs on the Cumberland 
River, kept by John Donelson." It is printed in full in A. W. 
Putnam's " History of Middle Tennessee." 



I 



From Watauga to the Cumberland 269 

in tow, and were crossing over to them, the rest of the 
fleet having landed on the opposite shore. After 
they had gone some distance, a half-breed, who called 
himself Archy Coody, with several other Indians, 
jumped into a canoe, met them, and advised them to 
return to the boat, which they did, together with 
Coody, and several canoes, which left the shore and 
followed directly after him. 

"After distributing some presents among them, 
with which they seemed much pleased, we observed 
a number of Indians on the other side embarkino- in 
their canoes, armed and painted with red and black. 
Coody immediately made signs to his companions, 
ordering them to quit the boat, which they did, 
himself and another Indian remaining with us, and 
telling us to move off instantly. We had not gone 
far before we discovered a number of Indians, armed 
and painted, proceeding down the river, as it were 
to intercept us. Coody, the half-breed, and his com- 
panion sailed with us for some time, and, telling us 
we had passed all the towns and were out of danger, 
left us." 

They were soon undeceived. Before nightfall 
they came to another Indian village, where, after 
vainly endeavoring to lure them ashore, a war-party 
launched canoes and started in pursuit. It hap- 
pened that a few days earlier smallpox had broken 
out among the occupants of a flat-boat containing 



270 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

twenty-eight persons who, as a safeguard for the 
health of the rest, had been ordered to keep at a good 
distance in the rear of the flotilla. The Chicka- 
maugans naturally singled out this boat for attack, 
boarded it, butchered all the men, and carried the 
women and children into captivity. In so doing 
they brought upon themselves a fearful retribution, 
for they became infected with the disease of their 
victims and, the infection spreading to other villages 
and tribes, hundreds of Indians perished — a fact 
which helps to account for the comparative immunity 
of the Cumberland settlements from Indian raids 
until they were strong enough to defeat all attempts 
to drive them back to the mountain settlements. 

In another boat a man was killed by a shot fired 
from ambush by a party of savages hiding on the 
opposite bank; and an hour or so later, when pass- 
ing through the so-called "Whirl" of the Tennessee, 
where the river courses swiftly between lofty over- 
hanging cliffs, the expedition was again attacked, the 
Indians firing down from the heights and wounding 
four people. 

During the mad rush to escape a boat ran ashore, 
and its occupants, a family named Jennings, had to 
be left to their fate. Donelson took it for granted 
that they would unfailingly be slaughtered, but two 
days afterwards, under date of March 30, his "Jour- 
nal " records : — 



From Watauga to the Cumberland 271 

"This morning, about four o'clock, we were sur- 
prise by cries of 'Help poor Jennings!' at some 
distance in the rear. He had discovered us by our 
fires, and came up in the most wretched condition. 
He states that as soon as the Indians had discovered 
his situation, they turned their whole attention to 
him, and kept up a most galling fire on his boat. He 
ordered his wife, a son nearly grown, a young man 
who accompanied them, and his two negroes, to 
throw all his goods into the river, to lighten their boat 
for the purpose of getting her off; himself returning 
their fire as well as he could, being a good soldier 
and an excellent marksman. But before they had 
accomplished their object, his son, the young man, 
and the negro man jumped out of the boat and left 
them : he thinks the young man and the negro were 
wounded. 

*^ Before they left the boat, Mrs. Jennings, however, 
and the negro woman succeeded in unloading the 
boat, but chiefly by the exertions of Mrs. Jennings, 
who got out of the boat and shoved her off; but was 
near falling a victim to her own intrepidity, on account 
of the boat starting so suddenly as soon as loosened 
from the rocks. Upon examination he appears to 
have made a wonderful escape, for his boat is pierced 
in numberless places with bullets." 

Two days later the expedition was again attacked 
as it floated past another Indian village. On this 



272 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

occasion no injury was done, but on March 14, when 
almost out of the Chickamauga country, five men 
were wounded, their boats '* approaching too near 
the shore," where the savages had laid an ambuscade. 
For the remainder of the voyage, to the rehef of all, 
no Indians were seen. March 20 the travellers 
entered the Ohio, and on the 24th turned from the 
Ohio into the Cumberland, not completing their 
journey, however, until exactly a month later, for 
it was April 24 before they caught their first glimpse 
of the palisades of Nashborough. 

They had been five months on the way, had been 
repeatedly forced to run a gauntlet of bullets, more 
than once had narrowly escaped shipwreck and death 
by drowning, and were utterly exhausted. Well 
might Donelson congratulate himself on having suc- 
ceeded in bringing them safely to their goal. 

"This day," he writes, in closing his unpolished 
yet, to modern Tennesseens, inestimably precious 
narrative, "we arrived at our journey's end at the 
Big Salt Lick, where we have the pleasure of finding 
Captain Robertson and his company. It is a source 
of satisfaction to us to be enabled to restore to him 
and others their families and friends who were in- 
trusted to our care, and who, some time since, per- 
haps despaired of ever meeting again. Though our 
prospects at present are dreary, we have found a few 
log-cabins which have been built on a cedar bluff 



From Watauga to the Cumberland 273 

above the Lick by Captain Robertson and his com- 
pany." 

Mark well that last sentence. Seldom has the true 
spirit of America been given more eloquent expres- 
sion than in those few simple words. Separated 
from even the small settlements of the border by 
hundreds of miles of black, tangled forest; sur- 
rounded by cruel foes who might fall upon them at 
any moment in overwhelming strength, John Donel- 
son and his mates found sufficient cause for gratitude 
and hopefulness in the fact that they had a few log- 
cabins to give them shelter. Dreary, in truth, was 
the prospect, yet there was no thought of surrender, 
no thought of turning back. This was the spirit 
of the early West, this is the spirit of the West to-day, 
it is the true American spirit. 

To do, to dare, to conquer; always manfully con- 
fident, pressing on from achievement to achievement, 
beaten at moments, perhaps, but never acknowledg- 
ing defeat, and doggedly returning to wrest triumph 
from disaster, — it was this spirit that enabled the 
pioneers under Boone and Clark, Sevier and Robert- 
son, to win and hold for the United States the vast 
expanse of wild but fertile country between the Alle- 
ghanies and the Mississippi; it was this spirit that 
enabled their descendants and successors to carry 
the American flag beyond the Mississippi, until the 
Republic spanned the continent from sea to sea. 



274 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

In a thousand ways the dauntless courage, the 
masterful independence, the bold self-reliance of the 
men of the early West were manifested, and not 
least in the measures they took to insure order and 
tranquillity in their isolated communities. We have 
already seen how the Watauga settlers, men without 
experience in state-craft, devised a form of govern- 
ment based on mutual confidence and esteem, and 
proving eminently workable; and we have also seen 
how the Transylvanians similarly established a gov- 
ernment of their own, less satisfactory than that of 
Watauga, but still containing admirable features and 
testifying to the inherent capacity of the pioneers for 
the management of affairs. Now the settlers on 
the Cumberland in their turn proceeded to effect a 
governmental organization, based on a written con- 
stitution which, for its pure democracy, deserves to be 
carefully examined by all students of political science. 

It was on May i, 1780, — another historic Ameri- 
can May-day, — that the people of the different 
stations, in answer to a call issued by Robertson, met 
in convention at Nashborough and signed articles of 
association drawn up, in all probability, by Robert- 
son, with some assistance from Richard Henderson, 
who had come out to survey the boundary-line be- 
tween the western lands of Virginia and North Caro- 
lina, and to arrange terms of payment with all who 
settled in the territory to which he laid claim. 






From Watauga to the Cumberland 275 

An attempt, indeed, has been made to credit Hen- 
derson rather than Robertson with the authorship of 
the Cumberland Compact, but the internal evidence 
of that document itself would seem to disprove this. 
There is a complete absence of the proprietary char- 
acteristics of the Transylvania Constitution, and 
while Henderson by this time doubtless appreciated 
the absurdity and impossibility of attempting to 
establish a proprietary government on American 
soil, there are many clauses in the Cumberland Com- 
pact so extremely democratic that it is hard to see 
how he could possibly have penned them. 

The "Articles of Agreement, or Compact of Gov- 
ernment, entered into by settlers on the Cumberland 
River, 1st May, 1780," as the Cumberland Consti- 
tution is formally styled, provided, first of all, that 
until the laws of North Carolina were extended to 
the Cumberland settlements they were to be gov- 
erned by a Court, or Assembly, of twelve Triers, 
Judges, or General Arbitrators, as they were vari- 
ously called, elected from the different settlements 
on the basis of manhood suffrage and representation 
according to population. 

There were to be three Triers from Nashborough, 
two from Gasper's and Eaton's, and one from each 
of the other five stations. They were to meet at 
Nashborough and have full jurisdiction in the settle- 
ment of all disputes, any three of them being com- 



2/6 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

petent to sit as a trial court. No appeal was allowed 
in cases where the "debt or damages or demand" 
did not exceed one hundred dollars. If the sum in 
dispute were larger, appeal could be taken to nine of 
the Triers sitting as an appellate court, their decision 
to be binding if seven of the nine agreed. As to 
criminal cases, the Compact declared : — 

"And it is further agreed that a majority of the 
said Judges, Triers, or General Arbitrators, shall 
have power to punish in their discretion, having 
respect to the laws of our country, all offences against 
the peace, misdemeanors, and those criminal, or of 
a capital nature, provided such Court does not pro- 
ceed with execution so far as to affect life or member; 
and in case any should be brought before them whose 
crime is or shall be dangerous to the State, or for 
v/hich the benefit of clergy is taken away by law, 
and sufficient evidence or proof of the fact or facts 
can probably be made, such Court, or a majority of 
the members, shall and may order and direct him, her, 
or them to be safely bound and sent under a strong 
guard to the place where the offence was or shall be 
committed, or where legal trial of such offence can 
be had, which shall accordingly be done and the 
reasonable expense attending the discharge of this 
duty ascertained by the Court and paid by the inhabit- 
ants in such proportion as shall be hereafter agreed 
on for that purpose." 



From Watauga to the Cumberland 277 

Provision was made for the estabhshment of a 
Land Office, and for the payment of Henderson and 
his associates at the rate of "twenty-six pounds, 
thirteen shilHngs, and four pence, current money, 
per hundred acres," after they could give the settlers 
"a satisfactory and indisputable title" — a clause 
which resulted in perpetual non-payment, owing to 
the action of the North Carolina Legislature in an- 
nulling Henderson's claims on the Cumberland, 
while voting him two hundred thousand acres in 
another part of the State as a compensation for the 
services he unquestionably had rendered in promot- 
ing the settlement of the West. 

It was also agreed by the Cumberland Compact 
that Henderson should have the power of appointing 
the Entry Taker of the Land Office. On the other 
hand, if the Entry Taker neglected his duties, or was 
found "by the said Judges, or a majority of them, 
to have acted fraudulently, to the prejudice of any 
person whatsoever, such Entry Taker shall be im- 
mediately removed from his office, and the book 
taken out of his possession by the said Judges, until 
another shall be appointed to act in his room." The 
Judges themselves were made subject to removal, 
by one of the most noteworthy clauses in this back- 
woods constitution : — 

"As often as the people in general are dissatisfied 
with the doings of the Judges or Triers so to be 



2/8 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

chosen, they may call a new election in any of the 
said stations, and elect others in their stead, having 
due respect to the number now agreed to be elected 
at each station, which persons so to be chosen shall 
have the same power with those in whose room or 
place they shall or may be chosen to act." 

Thus, with a political wisdom and forethought 
lacking in many more enlightened communities, the 
cabin dwellers of the Cumberland kept in their hands 
the power of immediate recall — that strongest of 
agencies to insure a truly democratic government. 
Theirs was to be emphatically a government of the 
people by the people and for the people, as they made 
unmistakably clear in the closing clause of their 
compact; — 

"The well-being of this country entirely depends, 
under Divine Providence, on unanimity of sentiment 
and concurrence in measures, and as clashing in- 
terests and opinions, without being under some 
restraint, will most certainly produce confusion, dis- 
cord, and almost certain ruin, so we think it our duty 
to associate, and hereby form ourselves into one 
society for the benefit of present and future settlers, 
and until the full and proper exercise of the laws of 
our country can be in use, and the powers of govern- 
ment extended among us; we do most solemnly and 
sacredly declare and promise each other, that we will 
faithfully and punctually adhere to, perform, and 



From Watauga to the Cumberland 279 

abide by this our Association, and at all times, if 
need be, compel by our united force a due obedience 
to these our rules and regulations. In testimony 
whereof we have hereunto subscribed our names in 
token of our entire approbation of the measures 
adopted." ^ 

The election of the Triers followed, Robertson 
being chosen to preside over their deliberations, and 
also being elected commander-in-chief of the mili- 
tary forces of the united settlements. After which 
the signers of the compact — to which two hundred 
and fifty-six names were attached — dispersed to 
their respective stations to resume the daily task of 
clearing the wilderness, and, erelong, to take up in 
addition the burden of defending their homes from 
the pitiless attacks of the American settler's dead- 
liest foe. 

From their forest-girt strongholds, in little war- 
parties of ten to twenty-five, the Cherokee and the 
Creek, the Chickamauga and the Chickasaw, set 
forth in the early summer of 1780 to carry death and 
destruction to the hardy adventurers who had taken 
possession of their choice hunting-grounds. But 
they had delayed their attack too long, and when they 
made it, did not carry on the steady, vigorous cam- 

^ The full text of the Cumberland Articles of Agreement, so far 
as that document has been preserved, may be studied in A. W. 
Putnam's "History of Middle Tennessee." 



28o Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

paign that alone could have brought success. De- 
spite frequent raids, despite occasional victories and 
the inflicting of some heavy losses, they signally 
failed to break the spirit or loosen the grasp of 
the iron-willed men of the Cumberland, vs^ho, under 
the inspiring leadership of Robertson, struck back 
as savagely as they. Tv^o years of guerilla warfare 
ended in their complete discomfiture, and by the 
opening of the year 1783 there was no longer doubt 
as to who would henceforth be masters of the Cum- 
berland Valley. 

It was in that same year that peace with Great 
Britain was declared, and before its close the peopling 
of the West had begun in earnest — a great migra- 
tion setting in, to occupy and hold and develop the 
glorious region won for the United States by the 
prowess of the buck-skinned heroes of Watauga, 
Kentucky, and the Cumberland. 



Il 



CHAPTER XVI 

ANNALS OF THE WILDERNESS ROAD 

AT the dose of the Revolution there were 
scarcely ten thousand American settlers in all 
the broad region between the Alleghanies and 
the Mississippi. When the first Federal census was 
taken, less than ten years later, it was found that the 
ten thousand had become more than one hundred 
thousand, nearly three-fourths of whom were located 
in Kentucky. In another ten years, or at the begin- 
ning of the nineteenth century, the population of 
the same transmontane region had increased to 
upwards of four hundred thousand, including two 
hundred and twenty thousand in Kentucky alone. 
Thus, for fully a quarter of a century after the time 
it was opened up to civilization by the Transylvania 
pioneers, Kentucky remained the premier Western 
State, and received the bulk of the enormous army 
of home-seekers who, immediately after the cessation 
of hostilities, hastened to take possession of the virgin 
lands of the West. 

There were many reasons why the incoming stream 

281 



282 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

of humanity flowed chiefly to Kentucky. For one 
thing, the marvellous fertility of its soil had been made 
known throughout the East by returned travellers and 
by speculators who had secured extensive holdings at 
a trifling outlay and were not overscrupulous as to 
the means they employed for disposing of them. To 
such lengths did some of these land-jobbers go that, 
as the French traveller, F. A. Michaux, indignantly 
noted, "even forged plans were fabricated, on which 
rivers were laid down, calculated for the establish- 
ment of mills and other uses.'' Nor did they hesi- 
tate on occasion to sell lands to which they were well 
aware they could not give a valid title. 

Moreover, it was understood that only in Kentucky 
or Tennessee could any degree of security be had 
against attack by the Indians. As has been said, 
after Clark's punitive expedition against the Shawnee 
towns in 1782, the Shawnees and their allies, although 
continuing to make desultory raids, never again in- 
vaded Kentucky in force. But, even after the end- 
ing of the Revolution had deprived them of British 
support, they maintained a bitterly hostile attitude 
towards all Americans, and for years prevented occu- 
pation of the country north of the Ohio, except at such 
border points as Cincinnati and Marietta, both of 
which cities were founded in 1788. In fact, it was not 
until 1795, following Anthony Wayne's victory at the 
battle of Fallen Timber, and the subsequent Treaty 



Annals of the Wilderness Road 283 

of Greenville, that the settlement of the Old North- 
west really began. 

The hostility of the Indians had the further con- 
sequence of indirectly promoting the development of 
Kentucky and Tennessee by influencing many of the 
early home-seekers to enter the West by v^ay of Cum- 
berland Gap and the Wilderness Road ; since, as long 
as Ohio remained in the possession of the savages, 
travel by the much easier Ohio River route was ex- 
tremely hazardous. How hazardous may best be 
shown by relating one of the numerous tales that 
have been handed down in proof of the malignity 
and cunning with which the Indians, ever watchfully 
alert on the northern bank of the Ohio, entrapped 
unwary voyagers. The victims on this occasion were 
a party of six — four men named May, Johnston, 
Stiles, and Flinn, and two sisters named Fleming 
— who had set out, in the spring of 1790, to journey 
down the Ohio to Limestone, now Maysville. 

"When near the mouth of the Scioto," continues 
the historian Collins, from whom I quote with some 
condensation, "they were awakened at daylight by 
Flinn, whose turn it was to watch, and informed that 
danger was at hand. All sprang to their feet, and 
hastened upon deck without removing their night- 
caps or completing their dress. The cause of Flinn's 
alarm was quickly evident. Far down the river a 
smoke was seen, ascending in thick wreaths above the 



284 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

trees. No one doubted that Indians were in front. 
As the boat drifted on, it became evident that the fire 
was upon the Ohio shore, and it was instantly deter- 
mined to put over to the opposite side of the river. 
Before this could be done, two white men ran down 
upon the bank, and clasping their hands in the most 
earnest manner, implored the crew to take them on 
board. 

"They declared that they had been taken by a 
party of Indians a few days before, had been con- 
ducted across the Ohio, and had just effected their 
escape. They added that the enemy was in close pur- 
suit of them, and that their death was certain unless 
admitted on board. Resolute in their purpose on 
no account to leave the middle of the stream, and 
strongly suspecting the supplicants of treachery, the 
party paid no attention to their entreaties, but stead- 
ily pressed their course down the river, and were 
soon considerably ahead of them. 

"The two white men ran along the bank, and their 
entreaties were changed into the most piercing cries 
and lamentations upon perceiving the obstinacy with 
which their request was disregarded. Instantly the 
obduracy of the crew began to relax. Flinn and the 
two females earnestly insisted upon going ashore and 
relieving the white men, and even the incredulity of 
May began to yield to the persevering importunity 
of the supplicants. A warm controversy began, 



Annals of the Wilderness Road 285 

and daring its progress the boat drifted so far below 
the men that they appeared to relinquish their pur- 
suit in despair. 

"At this time Flinn made a proposal which, accord- 
ing to his method of reasoning, could be carried into 
effect without the slightest risk to any one but himself. 
They were now more than a mile below the pursuers. 
Flinn proposed that May should only touch the shore 
long enough to permit him to jump out. That it 
was impossible for Indians (even admitting that they 
were at hand) to arrive in time to arrest the boat, and 
even should any appear they could immediately put 
off from the shore and abandon him to his fate. That 
he was confident of being able to outrun the red devils 
if they saw him first, and was equally confident of 
being able to see them as soon as they could see him. 
May remonstrated upon so unnecessary an exposure; 
but Flinn was inflexible, and in an evil hour the boat 
was directed to the shore. 

"They quickly discovered, what ought to have been 
known before, that they could not float as swiftly 
after leaving the current as while borne along by it, 
and they were nearly double the time in making the 
shore that they had calculated upon. When within 
reach, Flinn leaped fearlessly upon the bank, and the 
boat grated upon the sand. At that moment, five or 
six savages ran up, out of breath, from the adjoining 
wood, and seizing Flinn, began to fire upon the boat's 



286 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

crew. Johnston and Stiles sprang to their arms, in 
order to return the fire, while May, seizing an axe, 
attempted to regain the current. Fresh Indians ar- 
rived, however, in such rapid succession that the 
beach was quickly crowded by them, and May called 
out to his companions to cease firing and come to the 
oars. This was instantly done, but it was too late. 

"Seeing it impossible to extricate themselves, they 
awaited in passive helplessness the approach of the 
conquerors. The enemy, however, still declined 
boarding, and contented themselves with pouring in 
an incessant fire. One of the females received a ball 
in her mouth, and almost instantly expired. Stiles 
immediately afterwards was severely wounded in 
both shoulders, the ball striking the right shoulder- 
blade and ranging transversely along his back. May 
then rose and waved his night-cap above his head as a 
signal of surrender. He instantly received a ball in 
the middle of the forehead, and fell dead by the side 
of Johnston, covering him with his blood. 

"Now the enemy ventured to board. Throwing 
themselves into the water, with their tomahawks in 
their hands, a dozen or twenty swam to the boat and 
began to climb the sides. Johnston stood ready to 
do the honors. Nothing could appear more cordial 
than the greeting. Each Indian shook him by the 
hand, with the usual salutation of "how de do" in 
passable Enghsh, while Johnston met every Indian 



IJ 



Annals of the Wilderness Road 287 

with a forced smile, in which terror s-truggled with 
civility. The Indians then passed on to Stiles and the 
surviving Miss Fleming, where the demonstrations 
of mutual joy were not quite so lively. Stiles was 
writhing under his painful wound, and the girl was 
sitting by the body of her sister. 

"Having shaken hands with all of their captives, 
the Indians proceeded to scalp the dead, which was 
done with great coolness, and the reeking scalps were 
stretched and prepared upon hoops for the usual 
process of drying, immediately before the eyes of the 
survivors. The boat was then drawn ashore, and its 
contents examined with great greediness. At length 
the Indians stumbled upon a keg of whiskey. This 
prize was eagerly seized, and everything else aban- 
doned. 

"On the next morning the Indians rose early and 
prepared for another encounter, expecting that boats 
would be passing as usual. It happened that Captain 
Thomas Marshall, of the Virginia artillery, was de- 
scending the Ohio in company with several other 
gentlemen. About twelve o'clock on the second day 
after May's disaster, the little flotilla appeared about 
a mile above the point where the Indians stood. In- 
stantly all was bustle and activity. The oars were 
fixed to May's boat, the savages sprang on board, 
and the prisoners were compelled to station them- 
selves at the oars, and were threatened with instant 



288 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

death unless they used their utmost exertions. Cap- 
tain Marshall's three boats came down the river 
very rapidly, and v^ere soon immediately opposite 
the enemy's. The Indians opened a heavy fire 
upon them, and stimulated their rowers to the great- 
est effort. 

"But they lost ground from two circumstances. 
In their eagerness to overtake the whites they left the 
current and attempted to cut across the river from 
point to point, in order to shorten the distance. In 
doing so, however, they lost the force of the current, 
and soon found themselves dropping astern. In 
addition to this, the whites conducted themselves with 
equal coolness and dexterity. The second boat 
waited for the hindmost and received her crew on 
board, abandoning the goods and horses to the 
enemy. Being now more strongly manned, she shot 
rapidly ahead, and quickly overtook the foremost 
boat, which, in like manner, received the crew on 
board, abandoning the cargo as before; and, having 
six pairs of oars, and being powerfully manned, she 
was soon beyond the reach of the enemy's shot. 

"The chase lasted more than an hour. For the 
first half hour the fate of the foremost boat hung in 
mournful suspense. The prisoners were compelled 
to labor hard at the oars, but they took care never to 
pull together, and by every means in their power en- 
deavored to favor the escape of their friends. At 



Annals of the Wilderness Road 289 

length the Indians abandoned the pursuit, and turned 
their whole attention to the boats which had been 
deserted. 

"Flinn was subsequently burnt by his fiendish 
captors at the stake, with all the aggravated tortures 
that savage cruelty could devise. Stiles, after run- 
ning the gauntlet and having been condemned to 
death, made his escape and reached the white settle- 
ments in safety. Miss Fleming was rescued by an 
Indian chief, at the very time her captors had bound 
her to a stake and were making preparations to burn 
her alive, and was conducted to Pittsburg. Johnston 
was ransomed by a Frenchman at Sandusky, at the 
price of six hundred silver brooches, and returned in 
safety to his family.'' 

Menaced by such a peril as this, it is small wonder 
that, throughout the decade between the close of the 
Revolution and Wayne's successful campaign against 
the Ohio Indians, many emigrants, even from points 
as far north as Philadelphia and New York, preferred 
to reach the West by the roundabout, difficult route 
over the Wilderness Road. Not that they thereby 
entirely avoided attack by the savages, who long made 
petty incursions that in the aggregate resulted in the 
shedding of much blood and the inflicting of heavy 
property losses. They were particularly active along 
the line of the Wilderness Road, and consequently 
it became the custom for travellers to wait at some 



290 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

designated meeting-place until a numerous enough 
company had been assembled to enable them to pro- 
ceed without fear of being attacked. 

Inward bound, the usual rendezvous was at a 
blockhouse on the Holston, at the very beginning of 
Boone's historic road ; outward bound, it was at Crab 
Orchard, a Lincoln County pioneer station, so named 
because of the quantity of wild apple trees which the 
first settlers found growing there. After the estabhsh- 
ment of The Kentucky Gazette — founded in 1787, 
and the first newspaper published in the Mississippi 
Valley — advertisements frequently appeared, set- 
ting dates for intending travellers to assemble at Crab 
Orchard. "A large company," runs one announce- 
ment, in 1788, "will meet at the Crab Orchard the 
19th of November in order to start the next day 
through the Wilderness. As it is very dangerous on 
account of the Indians, it is hoped each person will 
go well armed." Another of the many similar ad- 
vertisements that might be quoted, warned all 
travellers to arm themselves and "not to depend on 
others to defend them." 

The newspapers of the day, too, bear striking testi- 
mony to the fact that these precautionary measures 
were amply justified, even long after Kentucky had 
become comparatively thickly settled. The Virginia 
Gazette, of November 5, 1791, under date of October 
22, from Winchester, reported that : " A person ar- 



Annals of the Wilderness Road 291 

rived here on Wednesday last from Kentucky, who 
informs us that he started from the Crab Orchards in 
company with several other persons; that, as they 
passed through the wilderness, they discovered two 
human bodies which had been killed and scalped by 
some Indians, and that he and his companions 
stopped and buried them. 

"Another party, who recently came in through the 
wilderness were attacked by a small number of Ind- 
ians; but they all escaped, saving one woman, who 
fell into the hands of the savages. She, however, was 
fortunate enough to liberate herself afterwards, in the 
following manner: The night after she was taken, 
the Indians made a large fire, and placed her between 
themselves and it; they then fell asleep, and, ap- 
parently, the woman did the same; but, watching her 
opportunity, she stole away from them unperceived, 
and wandered in the woods until she came to a run of 
water, whose course she kept for a considerable num- 
ber of miles, and at length arrived safe in a settlement 
of white inhabitants.'' 

In the same year a band of Wilderness Road ma- 
rauders penetrated as far east as the Watauga country, 
as we find from an item in Dunlap's American Daily 
Advertiser, a correspondent writing, in the issue for 
October 12, 1791, that "About the ist of September 
a party of Indians came to a place called Moccassen 
Gap, in Chnch Mountain, within seven miles of 



292 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Ross's furnace, and killed four persons. A party of 
men followed them immediately, but through some 
mismanagement returned without coming up with 
them. It is not known to what nation they belonged, 
but, from several circumstances, it is thought they 
were northern Indians." 

So far as the Indian peril was concerned, however, 
the Wilderness Road was never so dangerous as the 
journey down the Ohio. But the home-seekers who 
thronged its path invariably discovered that it had 
disadvantages from which the water route was alto- 
gether free. Even to-day, after nearly a century and 
a half of use, it remains, as that genial Kentucky 
writer, Mr. James Lane Allen, has wittily declared, 
"as it was in the beginning, with all its sloughs and 
sands, its mud and holes, and jutting ledges of rock 
and loose boulders, and twists and turns, and general 
total depravity." In the time of the first great im- 
migration — the ten years following the Revolution 
— it was a road of unending tribulations. Indeed, 
it could only by courtesy be called a road, for it was 
still merely the narrow, miry, forest-encompassed 
trail chopped out by Boone and his comrades in 1775. 

For twenty years, or until it was widened in 1796 
by order of the Kentucky Legislature, no wagon could 
traverse it. The men and women, the little children, 
who toiled wearily up the long ascent to Cumberland 
Gap, and thence pressed forward to the Blue Grass 



Annals of the Wilderness Road 



293 



region or the settlements on the Ohio, had to make 
the entire journey on foot or on horseback, just as 
the Boones and the Harrods and the Logans of earlier 
days had been obliged to do; and everything they 
brought with them had to be carried on the backs of 
patient pack-horses. There were few if any road- 
houses. All had to sleep in the open, huddled near 
the camp-fire. Often there was great suffering from 
storm and cold and want of food. Yet, such was the 
eagerness to occupy and hold the West that, at a con- 
servative estimate, no fewer than seventy-five thou- 
sand persons passed through Cumberland Gap and 
along the Wilderness Road in the years before it was 
open to wagon travel. 

Of all these thousands, though, scarcely one has left 
any record of the adventures that befell him on his 
journey. The sturdy folk who crossed the moun- 
tains, while by no means illiterate, were not a writing 
people; and when they reached their destination, they 
had much else to think of than the chronicling of the 
incidents of their long pilgrimage. Consequently the 
historian who would describe the Wilderness Road 
when it was at the height of its importance must 
fall back on inference and imagination, piecing out 
his narrative from such meagre sources of information 
as occasional references in contemporary newspapers, 
and brief statements in private letters and papers, the 
most detailed of which — a journal kept by William 



294 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Brown, who visited Kentucky in 1782 — is painfully 
deficient in the way of affording a view of life on 
Boone's famous thoroughfare. But it has the merit 
of indicating plainly the difficulties of travel, and the 
hardships and dangers to which all wayfarers over 
the old road were exposed. 

Brown, who was a Virginian and the father of 
Judge Alfred M. Brown, of Elizabethtown, Kentucky, 
set out on horseback from Hanover, Virginia, May 
27, 1782. Thence he rode to Richmond, and in a 
direct line westward through Powhatan, Cumber- 
land, Buckingham, and Amherst counties to the Blue 
Ridge, which he crossed into Botetourt County. His 
route then lay to the southwest, between a long suc- 
cession of mountain ridges, to the blockhouse on 
the Holston, where the Wilderness Road began. 
"The road from Hanover to this place," he records, 
"is generally very good; crossing the Blue Ridge is 
not bad ; there is not more than a small hill with some 
winding to go over. Neither is the Alleghany Moun- 
tain by any means difficult at this gap. There are one 
or two high hills about New River and Fort Chiswell. 
The ford of New River is rather bad. Therefore we 
thought it advisable to cross in the ferry-boat. This 
is generally a good-watered road as far as the block- 
house. 

"We waited hereabouts near two weeks for com- 
pany and then set out for the wilderness with twelve 



Annals of the Wilderness Road 295 

men and ten guns, this being Thursday, i8th July. 
The road from this until you get over Walden's 
Ridge generally is bad, some part very much so, 
particularly about Stock Creek and Stock Creek 
Ridge. It is a very mountainous country hereabout, 
but there is some fine land in the bottoms, near the 
watercourses, in narrow strips. It will be but a thin- 
settled country whenever it is settled. The fords of 
Holstein and Clinch are both good in dry weather, 
but in a rainy season you are often obliged to raft over. 

"From there along down Powell's Valley until 
you get to Cumberland Gap is pretty good ; this valley 
is formed by Cumberland Mountain on the northwest 
and Powell Mountain on the southeast, and appears 
to bear from northeast southwestwardly, and is, I 
suppose, almost one hundred miles in length, and 
from ten to twelve miles in breadth. The land gen- 
erally is good, and is an exceeding well-watered coun- 
try, as well as the country on Holstein River, abound- 
ing with fine springs and little brooks. For about 
fifty miles, as you travel along the valley, Cumber- 
land Mountain appears to be a very high ridge of 
white rocks, inaccessible in most places to either man 
or beast, and affords a wild, romantic prospect. 

"The way through the gap is not very difficult, but 
from its situation travellers may be attacked in some 
places, crossing the mountain, by the enemy to a very 
great disadvantage. From thence until you pass 



296 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Rockcastle River there is very little good road; this 
tract of country is very mountainous, and badly 
watered along the trace, especially for springs. There 
is some good land on the watercourses, and just on 
this side Cumberland River appears to be a good 
tract, and within a few years I expect to have a settle- 
ment on it. Some parts of the road are very miry in 
rainy weather. The fords of Cumberland and Rock- 
castle are both good unless the waters be too high ; 
after you cross Rockcastle there are a few high 
hills, and the rest of the way tolerable good; the 
land appears to be rather weak, chiefly timbered 
with oak, etc. 

"The first of the Kentucky waters you touch upon 
is the head of Dick's River, just eight miles from 
English's. Here we arrived Thursday, 25th inst., 
which is just seven days since we started from the 
blockhouse. Monday, 29th inst., I got to Harrods- 
burg. . . . 

"I travelled but little about the country. From 
English's to Harrodsburg was the farthest west, and 
from Logan's Fort to the Blue Lick the farthest north. 
Thus far the land was generally good — except near 
and about the Lick it was very poor and badly tim- 
bered — generally badly watered, but pretty well tim- 
bered. At Richmond Ford, on the Kentucky River, 
the bank a little below the ford appears to be largely 
upward of a hundred feet perpendicular of rock. 



Annals of the Wilderness Road 297 

"On my return to Hanover I set off from John 
Craig's Monday, 23d September, 1782; left English's 
Tuesday, i o'clock, arrived at the blockhouse the 
Monday evening follov^ing, and kept on the same 
route dovs^nv^ard chiefly that I travelled out. Noth- 
ing untow^ard occurred to me. Got to Hanover 
sometime about the last of October the same 
year." ' 

From this matter-of-fact, but historically impor- 
tant, record of travel, it appears that the v^estv^ard- 
bound emigrant from New York, Nevs^ Jersey, Penn- 
sylvania, Maryland, and Virginia had a fairly easy 
journey through the Valley of Virginia until he 
reached the blockhouse on the Holston. But, if 
only on account of the tremendous natural obstacles 
v^hich he thenceforv^ard had to overcome, it is not 
surprising that travel over the Wilderness Road fell 
off rapidly as soon as the pacification of the Ohio 
Indians rendered it possible to utihze less difficult 
and more direct routes. 

From New York and New England the emigrant 
then found ready access to the West through the 
Mohawk and Genesee valleys to Lake Erie, or, cross- 
ing the Hudson at Albany, passed westward through 
the Catskill Mountains to the headwaters of the 

^ Brown's "itinerary" is printed in full in Mr. Thorhas Speed's 
Filson Club monograph on "The Wilderness Road," from which I 
have taken the extracts quoted. 



298 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

Allegheny River. Several roads led through Penn- 
sylvania to the Ohio, on which, after 1800, the home- 
seeker could embark v^ith his family and float to the 
Mississippi in perfect security from Indian attack. 
The opening of other more southerly routes has- 
tened the dechne of Boone's road as a main-travelled 
way, and its complete downfall may be said to have 
been accomplished with the building of the cele- 
brated national turnpike, the Cumberland Road, 
which led from Baltimore through Cumberland, 
Maryland, — where unhappy Braddock had mar- 
shalled his troops, — to Wheeling, in West Virginia, 
being ultimately extended into Ohio. 

Still, though its glory has long since vanished, the 
important part once played by the Wilderness Road 
in the development of the United States can never be 
forgotten. As one writer. Professor A. B. Hulbert, 
has well said : — 

"The footsteps of the tens of thousands who have 
passed over it, exhausted though each pilgrim may 
have been, have left a trace that a thousand years 
cannot eradicate. And so long as the print of these 
many feet can be seen in dark Powell's Valley, on 
Cumberland Gap, and beside Yellow and Rock- 
castle creeks, so long will there be a memorial left to 
perpetuate the heroism of the first Kentuckians — 
and the memory of what the Middle West owes to 
Virginia and her neighbors. For when all is said. 



Annals of the Wilderness Road 



299 



this track from tide-water through Cumberland 
Gap must remain a monument to the courage and 
patriotism of the people of old Virginia and North 
Carohna." 

Aye, and a monument to its great maker, Daniel 
Boone, who, even when far advanced in years, dis- 
played a Kvely interest in the highway he had opened 
for the nation. In 1796, as was stated, the Wilder- 
ness Road was for the first time made fit for wagon 
travel, by order of the Kentucky Legislature. The 
announcement of the projected improvement drew 
from Boone the following curious, but pathetic, letter 
addressed to Governor Shelby. 

"Sir," Boone wrote, "after my best Respts to 
your Excelancy and famyly I wish to inform you that 
I have sum intention of undertaking this New Rode 
that is to be cut through the Wilderness and I think 
my Self intitled to the ofer of the Bisness as I first 
Marked out that Rode in March 1775 and Never 
rec'd anything for my trubel and Sepose I am no 
Statesman I am a Woodsman and think My Self as 
Capable of Marking and Cutting that Rode as any 
other man Sir if you think with Me I would thank 
you to Wright me a Line by the post the first oportu- 
neaty and he Will Lodge it at Mr. John Milers on 
hinkston fork as I wish to know Where and When it 
is to be Laat [let] So that I may atend at the time I 
am Deer Sir your very omble sarvent Daniel Boone." 



300 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

But others were to get the contract which should 
deservedly have gone to him. The Boone of 1796 
was not the Boone of 1782 in point of influence and 
prestige in Kentucky. He was no longer one of its 
recognized leaders. Rather, he had been swept to 
one side, and into an unmerited obscurity, taking nc 
part whatever in the upbuilding of the great common- 
wealth whose very existence was so largely owing to 
his brave endeavor. 



CHAPTER XVII 

KENTUCKY AFTER THE REVOLUTION 

THROUGHOUT the Indian wars, as we have 
seen, Daniel Boone was rivalled only by George 
Rogers Clark as the foremost figure in Ken- 
tucky, his daring deeds in defence of the infant set- 
tlements winning for him a renown that time has 
not faded nor can ever fade. But, after the crucial 
period of conflict was at an end, after the power of the 
red man to invade and ravage Kentucky had been 
broken, Boone's leadership rapidly waned. More 
than this, partly through his own fault and partly 
through the selfish scheming of others, a day came 
when he was stripped not only of influence but even 
of possession of a single acre of land. Homeless, 
burdened with debts, despairing of ever seeing justice 
done him, he finally was impelled to depart from 
the glorious domain with which his name will always 
be associated. 

Still, even had misfortunes not crowded thick and 
fast upon him, it is altogether unHkely that Boone 
would have spent the remainder of his days in Ken- 

301 



302 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

tucky. He was, as he had told Governor Shelby in 
the letter quoted in the preceding chapter, not a 
'* statesman" but a 'Svoodsman," with all of the true 
woodsman's distaste for the hurried and complex 
life of civilization. And Kentucky, with its influx 
of seventy thousand settlers within less than eight 
years after the battle of the Blue Lick, was no longer 
the Kentucky in which Boone as a woodsman had 
felt at home. The buflPalo and the deer and all other 
fur-bearing animals on which he depended so largely 
for his livelihood were driven to far-distant parts; 
new customs and manners irksome to the simple- 
hearted first settlers, of whom Boone was so con- 
spicuous a type, were fast introduced; almost every- 
where there was bustle and change, the old palisaded 
stations giving place to thriving villages and towns, 
or being entirely deserted, their war-worn timbers 
left to stand as grim reminders of the years of des- 
perate struggle. 

Boonesborough itself, it is true, gave slight evi- 
dence of the new order of things in Kentucky. After 
the spring of 1783, when a mounted messenger rode 
into the stockade with the word Peace displayed 
on his coonskin cap, in token of the signing of the 
treaty with Great Britain, there was a temporary ex- 
pansion. But for some reason immigration did not 
trend Boonesborough-wards, and as late as 18 10 it 
was still a tiny hamlet. To-day it is not even a ham- 



Kentucky after the Revolution 303 

let, its abandoned site being only a part of a lonely 
river farm. Mr. Ranck, in his *'Boonesborough," 
argues that it v^as at one time a town of considerable 
size, basing this claim apparently on a British docu- 
ment which credits Boonesborough with having 
had, in 1789, "upwards of one hundred and twenty 
houses." But since the census of 1790 does not even 
mention it in the enumeration of the towns of Ken- 
tucky, it seems safe to conclude that Boonesborough's 
importance ended with the termination of the Indian 
wars. 

As to its modern aspect, Mr. Ranck is well worth 
quoting. "One and only one institution survives,'* 
he writes, "that was established by the settlers of the 
place, and that figured familiarly in their lives. It is 
the picturesque old ferry, the oldest in Kentucky, 
and consecrated by the blood of its founders. The 
ferry-boat is fashioned still exactly like its quaint 
and simple predecessors of the Revolution, and is 
poled across the river in the same primitive style as 
in the fighting days of Boone. 

"No remnant of the battle-scarred old fort remains. 
For nearly a century the plough has been busy where it 
stood, and year after year the tall corn has rustled 
and ripened above its site. Elevated as the fort 
ground is, it has not always, it is said, escaped the 
obliterating effects of great overflows of the Kentucky 
River, and now the graves of such of the founders 



304 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and defenders of the old stronghold as were buried 
within or near its wooden walls have long been lev- 
elled and lost to sight. 

"The famous * hollow/ owing to successive de- 
posits from river floods, is not nearly as deep as it was 
in the days of the pioneers, and, long undisturbed, 
it is thick with sycamores that have sprung up since 
the settlement died out, and once again the ancient 
haunt of the buffalo and the elk is a romantic and 
luxuriant wild. The mighty elm, whose majestic 
dome sheltered the first legislature and the first wor- 
shipping assembly of a wilderness empire, and which 
witnessed one of the strangest episodes of the Ameri- 
can Revolution [the signing of the sham treaty at the 
last siege of Boonesborough], fell under the axe in 
1828, and fell in all its stateliness and splendor. It 
was the most unique and precious historical monu- 
ment in the whole domain of Kentucky, and was in- 
vested with a charm that the loftiest sculptured 
column could not possess. 

"But hedged about and obscured as it has been by 
deposits from river floods, the sulphur water is there 
round which the wild animals of the wilderness gath- 
ered for unnumbered generations; the Lick Spring 
still exists which refreshed alike the Indian and the 
pioneer, and near it stands the last of the great syca- 
mores that were there when the white man first in- 
vaded the vast sohtude in which they grew." 



7 Or "Jlfel[hlai^^^BBBBBBi 


r 

ii 






- o 



Kentucky after the Revolution 305 

If Boonesborough failed to profit from the flow of 
immigration, elsewhere the work of settlement and 
development went on apace, particularly north and 
east of the Kentucky, and along Logan's Branch of 
the Wilderness Road, where a number of promising 
little towns sprang up, of which at first the most im- 
portant, historically speaking, was Danville. Situ- 
ated near Crab Orchard, and between Logan's Fort 
and Harrodstown, Danville was virtually the capital 
of Kentucky until its admission as a State of the 
Union in 1 792.^ Farther west, along Logan's Branch, 
another prominent centre of settlement was at Bards- 
town, while, at the terminal of this branch, Louis- 
ville early began to give indications of the importance 
it was ultimately to attain. 

On the Kentucky the foundations of the present 
capital of the State, Frankfort, were laid. Almost in 
a straight line east from Frankfort, Lebanontown (now 
Georgetown) and Paris were established, the latter 
being at first known as Hopewell and, for a time, as 
Bourbontown. In the extreme northeast, four miles 
south of Maysville and convenient of access from the 
Ohio, the town of Washington was laid out, with a 
population by 1790 of nearly five hundred. But the 

^ The importance of Danville in the early political history of 
Kentucky is well brought out in two Filson Club publications, 
"The Political Club of Danville" and "The Political Beginnings 
of Kentucky." 



3o6 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

largest and most rapidly growing town of that day, the 
proudly styled "MetropoHs of the West," was Lex- 
ington, south of, and midway between, Paris and 
Frankfort. 

When the Revolution ended, Lexington was still 
merely a paHsaded settlement like Boonesborough, 
Harrodstown, and all other of the pioneer stations 
of Kentucky. At the time of the taking of the first 
Federal census it was a town with more than eight 
hundred inhabitants; and within the next ten years, 
or by the beginning of the nineteenth century, its 
population had increased to upwards of two thou- 
sand. Its growth was favored both by its location 
in the heart of the rich Blue Grass region and by 
the ease with which it could be approached from 
the Ohio and from both branches of the Wilder- 
ness Road. As early as 1784, or only two years 
after the battle of the Blue Lick, a "dry-goods" 
store was opened in Lexington by the always enter- 
prising, if notorious, James Wilkinson, who did so 
much to entangle the Kentuckians with their Span- 
ish neighbors, and to create dissension between the 
East and the West.^ The following year a grist-mill 

^ It does not fall within the province of this book to deal with the 
exciting, but extremely complicated, political events in Kentucky 
involved in the efforts of the Kentuckians, during the closing years 
of the eighteenth century, to secure navigation rights through 
Spanish Louisiana to the mouth of the Mississippi, whence they 



Kentucky after the Revolution 307 

was put in operation, and an inn established for the ac- 
commodation of travellers. Two years later, in 1787, 
John Bradford hauled a printing-press to Lexington, 
by pack-horse over the mountains, and founded Ken- 
tucky's first newspaper. The Kentucky Gazette. 

From the files of this old paper it is possible to gain 
a good idea of the rapidity with which Kentucky was 
transformed from a country of isolated and crude 
cabin settlements into a commonwealth with all the 
institutions, desirable and otherwise, of an advanced 
society. The news columns of The Kentucky Gazette, 
it must regretfully be said, furnish comparatively 
meagre information; for Bradford, Kke most of the 
editors of his time, ruthlessly subordinated local news 
to "general intelligence" — largely of happenings 
abroad. But the advertisements, with their uncon- 
scious mirroring of changing social conditions, amply 
compensate for the absence of any direct account of 
the life of the people of Lexington and the country 
round about it. 

For one thing, the advertisements in the Gazette 
afford impressive proof of the earnest desire on the 
part of the settlers, at the cost of considerable sacrifice 
to themselves, to provide educational facilities for 

could transmit their products by sea to the markets of the Atlantic 
States. For clear and interesting studies of this subject the reader 
may consult Mr. Roosevelt's "The Winning of the West," and Mr. 
Frederic Austin Ogg's "The Opening of the Mississippi." 



3o8 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

their children. Reference has already been made to 
the passion for education, if only of an elementary 
sort, found among the Scotch-Irish of the Virginia 
and CaroHna border, the first winners of the West. 
Even before Bradford began the publication of his 
newspaper there were several schools in Kentucky. 
In 1779, while the struggle with the Indians was at its 
height, Joseph Doniphan, a young immigrant from 
Virginia, opened a school at Boonesborough. The 
following year another was opened at Lexington by 
John McKinney. John Filson, to whom we are in- 
debted for Boone's '^autobiography," also taught 
school at Lexington before the end of the Indian 
wars; and, in 1785, in a large cabin near Danville, a 
beginningwas made of the "Transylvania Seminary," 
founded a couple of years earher by act of the Virginia 
Legislature as an institution for higher education. 

Not even the Transylvania Seminary, as then 
conducted, could compare favorably, however, with 
the "little red schoolhouse" of the country districts 
of to-day. But with the coming of the second gen- 
eration of settlers, many of whom were people of some 
means, schools of a better order were soon established. 
In 1787 Isaac Wilson, a graduate of the University 
of Pennsylvania, opened the "Lexington Grammar 
School" to teach "Latin, Greek, and the different 
branches of science." A still more ambitious project 
was set on foot at Lebanontown, as appears from the 



Kentucky after the Revolution 309 

following quaintly elaborate advertisement, inserted 
in the Gazette under date of December 27, 1787 : — 

"Notice is hereby given that on Monday, the 28th 
of January next, a school v^ill be opened by Messrs. 
Jones and Worley at the royal spring at Lebanontow^n, 
Fayette County, v^here a commodious house, suffi- 
cient to contain fifty or sixty scholars, w^ill be pre- 
pared. They will teach the Latin and Greek lan- 
guages, together with such branches of the sciences 
as are usually taught in public seminaries, at twenty- 
five shillings a quarter for each scholar, one half to be 
paid in cash, the other in produce at cash price. 
There will be a vacation of a month in the spring and 
another in the fall, at the close of each of which it is 
expected that such payments as are due in cash will 
be made. For diet, washing, and house-room for 
a year, each scholar pays three pounds in cash, or 
five hundred weight of pork, on entrance, and three 
^pounds each on the beginning of the third quarter. 
It is desired that as many as can would furnish them- 
selves with beds; such as cannot may be provided for 
here to the number of eight or ten boys, at twenty-five 
shillings a year for each bed. 

''N.B. It would be proper for each boy to have 
his sheets, shirts, stockings, etc., marked, to prevent 
mistakes." 

In the same year (1788) that Messrs. Jones and 
Worley opened their academy, Transylvania Semi- 



310 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

nary was moved from Danville to Lexington, v^here 
it was located in "a plain, two-story brick building" 
instead of the rough log structure in which it had 
hitherto been housed. In its new home it seems to 
have prospered from the outset, and to have met to a 
large extent the need it was intended to supply. 
"Friday the loth inst.," one reads in an April, 1790, 
issue of the Gazette, "was appointed for the examina- 
tion of the students of the Transylvania Seminary by 
the trustees. In the presence of a very respectable 
audience, several elegant speeches were delivered by 
the boys, and in the evening a tragedy acted, and the 
whole concluded with a farce. The several masterly 
strokes of eloquence, throughout the performance, 
obtained general applause, and were acknowledged 
by a universal clap from all present. The good order 
and decorum observed throughout the whole, together 
with the rapid progress of the school in Hterature, 
reflects very great honor on the president." 

This in Lexington in April, 1790, not eight years 
after the fateful day when John Todd and his men 
in buckskin galloped out of its stockade gate to the 
rehef of Bryan's Station and the disastrous battle of 
the Blue Lick ! Truly Kentucky was making mar- 
vellous progress.^ 

^ It may be noted in passing that in 1798, by merger with the 
Kentucky Academy, established near Lexington in 1796, Tran- 
sylvania Seminary became Transylvania University. This name 



Kentucky after the Revolution 311 

Nor was the activity of the settlers along educa- 
tional lines confined to the establishing of schools. 
Towards the close of 1787, the "Kentucky Society 
for Promoting Useful Knowledge" was organized 
by the joint efforts of a number of public-spirited 
citizens of Lexington, Louisville, Danville, and other 
towns; and in 1795 a public library was opened in 
Lexington. Books, it would seem, and of a most 
varied character, were widely read. At all events, 
The Kentucky Gazette and The Rights of Man^ or 
Kentucky Mercury, a newspaper founded at Paris in 
1797, contain advertisements of books for sale by 
local merchants, who, in view of the great difficulties 
of transportation, would assuredly not have imported 
them had there not been considerable demand. 

In the November 17, 1797, issue of the Mercury, for 
instance, Oba S. Timberlake offered to the public 
an extensive assortment of books, including Cook's 
"Voyages," Enfield's "Sermons," Price's "Sermons," 
Paley's "Evidences of Christianity," Milton's 
"Works," Carver's "Travels," Goldsmith's "His- 
tory of England," Harrison's "Natural History," 
Franklin's "Works," "Gil Bias," "Irish Jests," and 
"Rosina, or Love in a Cottage." 

it retained until 1865 when, again by merger with another institu- 
tion, it became Kentucky University. Its history is ably told in a 
Filson Club publication, Dr. Robert Peter's "Transylvania Uni- 
versity." 



312 



Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 



Even more miscellaneous and more clearly in- 
dicative of an appreciation among eighteenth-cen- 
tury Kentuckians of the best in literature are 
the items in an advertisement inserted by a Lex- 
ington merchant in the Gazette of May 23, 1799, 
listing such v^orks as Plutarch's "Lives," Homer's 
"Iliad," Milton's "Paradise Lost" and "Paradise 
Regained," Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress" and 
"The Holy War," Locke's "Essay on the Hu- 
man Understanding," "The Spectator," Johnson's 
*^ Lives," Butler's "Analogy," "Robinson Crusoe," 
and "EveUna." 

The nev^spaper advertisements also leave no doubt 
that, besides expanding intellectually, the people of 
Kentucky rapidly outgrew the primitive simplicity 
of costume, food, recreations, household furnishings, 
etc., that had prevailed throughout the period of first 
settlement. By 1789 they v^ere beginning to build 
brick houses in their larger tovsrns. The same year 
Kentucky's classic sport, horse racing, w^as insti- 
tuted at Lexington, and in 1797 a jockey club v^as 
organized, as is shown by an advertisement in the 
Gazette calling on the subscribers to the Newmarket 
Jockey Club to meet for the purpose of establishing 
rules and regulations. Also in 1797 a theatre was 
opened in Lexington. Articles of comfort and luxury 
were imported in constantly increasing quantity and 
variety. In 1796 Benjamin Cox, a Lexington trades- 



Kentucky after the Revolution 313 

man, announced through the Gazette that he was pre- 
pared to supply his patrons with — 

"A handsome assortment of dry goods and hard- 
ware — amongst which are a few sets of saddler's 
and shoemaker's tools complete. A most elegant 
assortment of milliner's work, such as bonnets, hats, 
caps, feathers, and a number of other handsome 
pieces of ornament for ladies. Together with a few 
lady's watch chains and gold ear-rings, all of the 
newest fashion. Also a large and general assort- 
ment of medicine, amongst which is the following 
patent medicine — to wit, castor, sweet, and British 
oil, Godfrey's cordial, Bateman's drops, Turlington's 
balsam of life, Anderson's pills. Also madder, alum, 
whiting, ink powder, and a quantity of excellent 
sponge; together with a number of other things too 
tedious to mention." 

Three years later, to quote a second advertise- 
ment illustrative of the rapidity with which the 
Kentuckians progressed out of the era of cabin 
homes, linsey and buckskin clothes, and plain 
viands, another Lexington merchant listed in the 
Gazette : — 

"Young Hyson tea, pepper, nutmegs, copperas, 
alum, indigo, arnotto, iron, lead, glass bottles, 
window glass, slates, pins and needles, teakettles, 
bell-metal skillets for preserving, padlocks, muslins, 
writing-paper, pocket-books, spelling-books. Bibles 



314 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

and testaments, Watson's Apology for the Bible, 
black silk mode, black satin, wool and fur hats, an 
elegant horseman's sword, whips, casimirs, flannels, 
Scotch snuff, and tobacco." 

Other advertisements of earlier date show that there 
was a Hvely demand for artisans of all sorts. Immi- 
gration societies were organized in Lexington, Louis- 
ville, Washington, and elsewhere, to make known the 
opportunities open in Kentucky to skilled mechanics 
as well as to agriculturalists. The price-lists published 
by these societies reveal even more clearly than the 
ordinary business announcements the far-reaching 
change in social conditions that developed with the 
coming of the army of home-seekers who took pos- 
session of Kentucky in the years immediately follow- 
ing the Revolution. 

By 1797, it appears, carpenters and house-painters 
were assured of constant and remunerative occupa- 
tion; shoemakers could find steady employment 
manufacturing "boots and bootees"; hat-makers 
were needed to provide the Kentuckians with " beaver, 
castor, smooth, rabbit, and wool" hats; tailors to 
garb them in "great coats, strait coats, coatees, sur- 
touts, waistcoats, and breeches," and cabinet-makers 
to install in their homes "dining tables, breakfast 
tables, card-tables, buffets, sideboards, bookcases, 
bureaus, cases of drawers, clock-cases, and bed- 
steads." 



Kentucky after the Revolution 315 

At first, of course, it was only in and about the 
towns that the new and more elaborate mode of liv- 
ing was in evidence. There were plenty of thinly 
settled districts — just as, for that matter, there are 
in Kentucky to-day — where the inhabitants still 
lived in the most primitive fashion imaginable. But, 
speaking generally, in the more desirable sections of 
the State the old order of things had vanished before 
1800, never to return. And, as may be imagined, 
there were many of the original settlers who bitterly 
deplored and resented the innovations forced upon 
them. In 1797, when money was particularly scarce 
in Kentucky, a series of articles appeared in The 
Kentucky Herald, charging that the "hard times" 
were due to nothing so much as the "change in the 
manners" of the people. 

"During the first period of its settlement," the 
writer declared, "the inhabitants expected and 
wished for nothing but what was the produce of 
the country. Men and women exerted themselves 
to the utmost to bring to perfection such necessary 
articles as the climate and soil were capable of pro- 
ducing. . . . The table was entirely furnished with 
the produce of the country; and very few articles 
of clothing, or of woollen or linen for domestic 
use, were brought from any other country. . . . 
But as soon as great sums of money were intro- 
duced, by the markets caused by the Indian 



3i6 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

war/ a change took place in our manners; a 
change which, although not very great at first, has 
been gradually increasing, until we now no longer 
resemble the people we were during the first period. 

"The money which was then received for the 
cattle and horses which had been raised by the joint 
care of the whole family was to be expended in the 
way which would give most pleasure to all. Pride 
then commenced its operations and induced them to 
prove the superiority of their wealth by the purchasing 
to the greatest amount of those articles of foreign 
luxury which had before been equally unused by all. 
These articles when purchased would not have an- 
swered the purpose for which they were intended 
unless they had been exhibited to public view; this 
established an universal desire to show the greatest 
value in these articles. By this means home manu- 
factures became disreputable. Those were con- 
sidered as poor or mean who appeared in them, and 
it soon became as uncommon a sight to see a coat or a 
gown made of them as it formerly had been to see 
those articles made of imported materials. . . . 

"Home manufactures were not only discarded 
from our dress but were also laid aside in our diet; 
none but imported cheese was fit to be served upon a 

^ The reference is to the campaigns of Harmar, St. Clair, and 
Wayne against the Ohio Indians, 1790-94. The suppHes for the 
troops were obtained largely from Kentucky. 



Kentucky after the Revolution 317 

genteel table; country sugar did not agree with their 
stomachs; and home-made spirits were so little used 
that even a small quantity of them could not be pro- 
cured but after a diligent search, when wine and im- 
ported spirits were used as freely as if they flowed 
spontaneously from our springs. Not satisfied with 
these alterations they turned day into night, and night 
into day, and every expensive and ridiculous fashion 
which was in use in any of the old countries was intro- 
duced here. . . . The degree of extravagance caused 
by these changes in our manners has been witnessed 
by all, and felt by many. During the short time 
that money was flowing in upon us from all quarters, 
the imprudence of such conduct was great; but to 
continue it now, after all the channels are stopped 
through which we were supplied with the means of 
supporting that extravagance, would be folly in the 
extreme." 

Scant attention was paid to censure like this. The 
old settlers were made to feel that either they must 
accommodate themselves to the altered conditions of 
their environment, or seek elsewhere the kind of life 
to which they had always been accustomed. As a 
result, many of them, by temperament and training 
fitted only for the free and simple existence of the 
frontier, departed from Kentucky as soon as it 
began to be, from their point of view, uncom- 
fortably populous. Among those thus migrating. 



31 8 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

partly from necessity and partly from choice, was 
Daniel Boone. 

The story of his life in Kentucky after it had been 
definitely won from the red man need not take long 
in the telling. Some time before the battle of the 
Blue Lick he left Boonesborough with his family, his 
pack-horses, and his dogs, and took up his residence 
on a small farm on the other side of the Kentucky, 
about five miles from his first settlement. Here he 
built a pahsaded log-house, known on old maps of 
Kentucky as Boone's Station, and made his home 
until 1785, supporting himself by raising tobacco, 
surveying, and hunting. It was while he was Hving 
on this farm that he gave Filson the material for his 
singular "autobiography,'' the publication of which, 
in 1784, had the effect of making Boone's name 
known in every part of the United States, and even 
in foreign lands. 

But, brilliant as his reputation was, it could not save 
him from the worries and troubles that he now began 
to experience in rapidly increasing number. In the 
course of the twenty years that had elapsed since the 
opening of the Wilderness Road and the building of 
Boonesborough he had acquired extensive holdings 
of land in various parts of Kentucky. Two thousand 
acres, the reader may remember, had been given to 
him by the Transylvania Company as a reward for 
his road-building services. In 17S0, this grant hav- 



Kentucky after the Revolution 319 

ing lapsed with the failure of Henderson and his 
partners to sustain their claim to Kentucky, the Vir- 
ginia Legislature had voted Boone a compensatory 
grant of a thousand acres in w^hat is now^ Bourbon 
County; and he had preempted many thousands of 
acres more, believing, in the v^ords of his biographer. 
Dr. Thv^aites, that no one v^ould question his right 
to as much land as he cared to hold in a wilderness 
which he had done so much to bring to the attention 
of the world. 

Unfortunately, he entirely neglected to perfect his 
claims in accordance with legal requirements, an 
omission that was soon discovered by hawk-eyed 
"claim-jumpers," who did not scruple to make 
entry of Boone's choice preemptions in their own 
names. Suit after suit for ejectment was filed against 
him, and, the courts having no alternative but to up- 
hold those who had taken title in the proper way, the 
final outcome was to leave the brave old hero without 
an acre of land in his beloved Kentucky. 

Meanwhile, in 1786, he made another removal, this 
time to Maysville, where he opened a small tavern 
and store, the merchandise for which he and his sons 
brought from Maryland by pack-horse. Often, too, 
he went on hunting and trapping expeditions, or 
traded up and down the Ohio, bartering his goods 
for furs, skins, tobacco, ginseng, and other Kentucky 
products, which he carried across the mountains and 



320 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

exchanged for more merchandise. Besides this, he 
was frequently employed as a scout and guide for par- 
ties of immigrants. Once, in 1788, he took his wife 
and son Nathan, then a little fellow of eight, on a 
horseback trip to Pennsylvania, where they remained 
a month visiting their relatives in Berks County. On 
his return, learning that the courts were still deciding 
against him in the matter of the lawsuits, and that he 
had been rendered almost entirely landless, Boone left 
Maysville, vowing never more to live in Kentucky, 
and established himself in the western Virginia set- 
tlement of Point Pleasant, at the juncture of the 
Ohio and the Kanawha rivers. 

Here he was once more in a typical frontier com- 
munity, and was received with an enthusiasm that 
must have been most pleasing to him. He had not 
been in his new home more than a year, when, as the 
result of a popular petition, he was appointed lieu- 
tenant-colonel of Kanawha County. In 1791, as a 
further mark of the esteem in which the Kanawha 
Valley people held him, he was elected to the Virginia 
Assembly, an honor which he had enjoyed twice be- 
fore, once when Boonesborough was in its prime, and 
later while he was living in Maysville. The records 
of the Assembly for 1791 show that he served on two 
then important committees — the committee on 
religion and the committee on propositions and li- 
censes. But there is nothing to indicate that he took 



Kentucky after the Revolution 321 

any part in the Assembly debates other than to vote 
on bills brought up for consideration. 

Before the Assembly adjourned v^ord arrived of 
the disaster that had overtaken Governor St. Clair's 
ill-starred expedition against the Indian towns on the 
Miami, and with praiseworthy promptitude it was 
voted to send a large supply of ammunition to the 
militia on the Monongahela and the Kanawha, who 
were to be called out to defend the frontier against 
the Indian raids which it was expected would im- 
mediately follow St. Clair's defeat. This drew from 
Boone another of his strangely misspelled, but his- 
torically valuable, letters. 

"Sir," he wrote to the governor of Virginia, "as 
sum person Must Carry out the armantstion (ammu- 
nition] to Red Stone if your Exclency should 
have thought me a proper person I would under- 
take it on conditions I have the apintment to vitel the 
company at Kanhowway so that I Could take Down 
the flowre as I paste that place I am your Excelencey's 
most obedent omble servant Daniel Boone." 

Five days later, December 18, 1791, his offer was 
accepted, and he set out for Red Stone, now Browns- 
ville, Pennsylvania. But for some reason he failed 
to deliver the necessary rations to the Kanawha 
troops. Nor, unlike his old friend Simon Kenton, 
who had settled near Washington, Kentucky, does 
he seem to have participated in the Indian wars in 



322 



Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 



Ohio. Scarcely anything, in fact, is known of his 
life during the years 1792-98, except that he moved 
his residence from Point Pleasant to a settlement 
farther up the Kanawha, near the site of Charleston, 
West Virginia ; roamed and hunted as of old, and was 
a frequent visitor to the now rapidly growing towns 
on the Ohio, where his fame invariably drew about 
him a group of newcomers, eager to hear from his 
own lips the story of his adventures in Kentucky. 
Several of those who thus met him for the first time 
have left brief accounts of the impression he made on 
them. 

" It is now,'* records one, writing in 1 847, " fifty- four 
years since I first saw Daniel Boone. He was then 
about sixty years old, of a medium size, say five feet 
ten inches, not given to corpulency, retired, unob- 
trusive, and a man of few words. My acquaintance 
was made with him in the winter season, and I well 
remember his dress was made of tow cloth, and not a 
woollen garment on his body, unless his stockings 
were of that material. ... I slept four nights in the 
house of one West, with Boone; there were a num- 
ber of strangers, and he was constantly occupied in 
answering questions.'' 

Another writes that "his large head, full chest, 
square shoulders, and stout form are still impressed 
upon my mind. He was (I think) about five feet ten 
inches in height, and his weight say one hundred and 



Kentucky after the Revolution 323 

seventy-five pounds. He was solid in mind as v^ell 
as in body, never frivolous, thoughtless, or agitated; 
but was always quiet, meditative, and impressive, un- 
pretentious, kind, and friendly in his manner. He 
came very much up to the idea we have of the old 
Grecian philosophers — particularly Diogenes.'' 

The great naturalist Audubon, who happened to 
pass a night with Boone in a West Virginia cabin, 
declared that "the stature and general appearance 
of this wanderer of the Western forests approached 
the gigantic. His chest was broad and prominent; 
his muscular powers displayed themselves in every 
Hmb; his countenance gave indication of his great 
courage, enterprise, and perseverance; and when he 
spoke, the very motion of his Hps brought the impres- 
sion that whatever he uttered could not be otherwise 
than strictly true." ^ 

But, popular and revered though he was, it cannot 
be said that Boone's life was a happy one. Even 
the Kanawha Valley, now filling up with population, 
had grown distasteful to him. He longed, as always, 
for the frontier, for the serenity of the unbroken for- 
est, abounding with game. He missed the warm 
friendships, the close companionships, of the men by 

* The first of these descriptions is quoted from Howe's "Histori- 
cal Collections of Ohio," the second from Dr. Thwaites's " Daniel 
Boone," the third from Maria R. Audubon's "Audubon and his 
Journals." 



324 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

whose side he had lived and fought in the old Boones- 
borough days. To fill the cup of his unhappiness, 
his few remaining land-holdings in Kentucky, which 
had escaped the rapacity of the "claim-jumpers," 
were sold at auction in 1798 because of his inability 
to pay taxes on them. In his wrath and bitterness 
of heart he declared that he would no longer endure 
a civilization that had proved so cruel to him, but 
would advance again into the wilderness. 

Westward once more, therefore, he made his way, 
embarking on the Kanawha with his family, to 
voyage by flatboat to Missouri, whither his oldest 
surviving son, Daniel Morgan, had already gone. It 
is said that on the day set for his departure there was 
a great gathering of pioneers to bid him an affection- 
ate farewell. From the Kanawha he sailed leisurely 
down the Ohio, putting in at various river towns to 
buy provisions and visit old friends. At Cincinnati, 
the story goes, somebody asked him why, at his time 
of life, he wished to expose himself again to the dan- 
gers and hardships of the frontier. 

" It is too crowded here," he grimly repHed. "I 
want more elbow-room." 

Sturdy, brave, self-reliant as ever, he journeyed on, 
steadily westward, in search of the contentment and 
peace of mind that had vanished with the ruin of his 
hopes in Kentucky. 



CHAPTER XVIII 



boone's last years 



MISSOURI was then, and had been since 
1763, a Spanish possession, but the major- 
ity of its white inhabitants were French. 
They were the same care-free, Hght-hearted, irrespon- 
sible type of people that George Rogers Clark had 
found at Kaskaskia, Cahokia, and Vincennes, dwell- 
ing in small log-cabin settlements, practising a crude 
agriculture, and apparently regarding life as though 
it were one long perpetual holiday. At first disposed 
to resent the enforced transfer of their allegiance from 
France to Spain, they soon reconciled themselves to 
the change, precisely as the French of the Illinois 
country had done after Clark's conquest. As Boone 
discovered on his arrival in Missouri, they were still 
leading an almost patriarchal existence, grazing their 
flocks and herds on pastures held in common by all, 
and supplying their further wants by hunting and 
trapping and by barter with the Indians, with whom 
they were on the most friendly terms. The sim- 
plicity of their nature was reflected in the appearance 
of their towns, the largest of which, St. Louis, was a 

325 



326 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

mere village, extremely picturesque but quite unlike 
the bustling centres of industrial and commercial en- 
terprise so rapidly arising on the American side of the 
Mississippi. 

To Boone, however, fleeing from the hubbub and 
turmoil of the fast-peopling Middle West, the ab- 
sence of all signs of progress v^as a welcome relief. 
He was still further gladdened by the reception given 
him by the Spanish authorities at St. Louis, the capi- 
tal of Upper Louisiana, of which Missouri was a part. 
In answer to his request for a grant of land, he was 
given, free of charge, a farm of about eight hundred 
and fifty acres in the choice but sparsely inhabited 
Femme Osage District, where his son and some other 
adventurous Americans had located; and, in 1800, 
was appointed syndic, or magistrate, an office which 
he retained until the cession of Louisiana to the 
United States. 

As syndic he was the most important official in 
Femme Osage, and dispensed justice with such an 
even hand as to win not only the respect of the French 
and American settlers, but the warm commendation 
of the lieutenant-governor of Upper Louisiana, 
Charles Dehault Delassus. In a list of syndics which 
he drew up in 1804, Delassus referred to Boone as 
"Mr. Boone, a respectable old man, just and impar- 
tial, who has already, since I appointed him, offered 
his resignation owing to his infirmities — beheving I 



Boone's Last Years 327 

know his probity I have induced him to remain, in 
view of my confidence in him, for the public good." 

As may be imagined, Boone's performance of his 
duties as syndic was most unconventional. He knew 
absolutely nothing of legal procedure, except what he 
had gained through his unpleasant experiences in the 
courts of Kentucky. There were no lawyers in the 
Femme Osage District, and if there had been, it is 
doubtful whether Boone would have allowed them to 
plead before him, so prejudiced was he against all 
lawyers, to whose cunning devices he attributed the 
loss of his lands. In every case, therefore, that came 
to him for settlement, he acted as judge, jury, and 
counsel. He examined and cross-examined the wit- 
nesses, without the slightest regard for the laws of 
evidence; imposed whatever penalties he saw fit, 
sometimes to the extent of a sound flogging; and 
permitted no appeal from his decisions. Withal, ac- 
cording to contemporary accounts, he conducted him- 
self with the greatest dignity, and displayed such un- 
failing fairness and good sense that the longer he was 
a syndic, the more respected he became. 

Only a small part of his time was taken up by the 
cares of office, leaving him with plenty of leisure for 
his favorite occupation of hunting and trapping. 
Every winter he left his cabin on Femme Osage 
Creek, and, accompanied by one or the other of his 
sons, wandered off to the great game fields that 



328 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

stretched for hundreds of miles north and south of 
the Missouri. Advancing years had somewhat 
dimmed his eyesight, and brought a sKght tremor to 
his powerful hands; but despite the weaknesses of 
age, his marksmanship still excelled that of many far 
younger men. And he was still as keen for the chase 
as in the long-gone days of his boyhood when, a 
little lad of ten or twelve, he had wielded his knob- 
rooted sapHng to such deadly effect against the 
squirrels and chipmunks of Oley Township. In 
the summer he travelled about, visiting friends, or 
holding court in various settlements. It was a life 
that exactly suited him. Indeed, he was afterwards 
heard to say that his first years in Missouri were the 
happiest he had known since his long hunt in Ken- 
tucky with John Finley. 

In faraway Europe, however, important political 
events were transpiring that were destined to bring 
sorrow and suffering to him once more. In 1800 
the mighty Napoleon, who dreamed of restoring 
France's lost empire in the New World, persuaded 
Spain to retrocede to France the whole of vast Louisi- 
ana in exchange for an Italian principality. Before 
the exchange was formally completed, it became cer- 
tain that war would soon break out between France 
and England, and, lacking command of the sea, 
Napoleon at once realized that he would have to 
abandon his cherished colonial enterprise. Instead 



Boone's Last Years 329 

of handing Louisiana back to Spain, he oflFered to sell 
it to the United States, which had already sent com- 
missioners to France to negotiate for the purchase of 
New Orleans and Florida. His offer was promptly 
accepted, and a treaty signed conveying Louisiana 
to the United States and thereby doubling the area of 
the youthful Republic at a cost of only fifteen million 
dollars. 

It was a great day's work for the American people, 
but it was disastrous to Daniel Boone. With the 
raising of the Stars and Stripes at St. Louis, March 10, 
1 804, his authority and emoluments as a syndic ceased ; 
and, what was a far more serious matter, the change 
of sovereignty involved him in a bitter struggle to 
keep possession of his farm in Femme Osage. Accord- 
ing to the Spanish law regarding land grants, every 
settler was required, in order to insure a permanent 
holding, to occupy and cultivate his grant within a 
certain time. Boone, who had been living near but 
not on his farm, had failed to comply with this pro- 
viso, having been assured, as he told the American 
commissioners appointed to investigate the titles of 
Louisiana settlers, that syndics were exempt from 
the requirement of settlement and cultivation. But, 
after reserving judgment for some time, the commis- 
sioners finally decided that their instructions were too 
explicit to permit them to make any exception in his 
favor, and he was thus left, at the age of seventy-five, 



330 



Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 



and after a career of exploration and pioneering un- 
surpassed by any man of his generation, without a 
foot of land that he could call his own. 

Aid now came to him from an unexpected source. 
At the time of his removal to Missouri, Boone had 
a number of small debts outstanding against him in 
Kentucky, and in 1810, having had a most successful 
season trapping beavers, he made a last journey to 
his old haunts for the express purpose of settling 
these obligations. Tradition has it that he returned 
with only half a dollar in his pocket, but happy in 
the thought that, "No one can say, when I am gone, 
* Boone was a dishonest man.' " He also brought 
back the cheering consciousness that the people of 
Kentucky were beginning to appreciate what they 
and the nation owed to his heroic labors as a path- 
finder and defender of the West, and were willing 
to assist him in his efforts to regain his Missouri 
grant. He therefore addressed to the Kentucky 
Legislature, in 1812, a memorial begging that body to 
help him in securing from Congress a reversal of the 
commissioners' judgment. 

In his petition, which was quite long, he declared 
that "the history of the settlement of the western 
country was his history," and reminded the legislators 
of his struggles "in the fatal fields which were dyed 
with the blood of the early settlers, amongst whom 
were his two oldest sons, and others of his dearest con- 



Boone's Last Years 331 

nectlons." He alluded briefly to his misfortunes in 
Kentucky, when, "unacquainted with the niceties of 
the law, the few lands he was enabled to locate were, 
through his ignorance, generally swallowed up by 
better claims." He then told of the similar loss he 
had recently suffered in Missouri, stated that he had 
appealed to Congress for relief, and added : — 

"Your memoralist cannot but feel, so long as 
feeling remains, that he has a just claim upon his 
country for land to live on, and to transmit to his 
children after him. He cannot help, on an occasion 
like this, to look towards Kentucky. From a small 
acorn she has become a mighty oak, furnishing shel- 
ter to upwards of four hundred thousand souls. 
Very different is her appearance now from the time 
when your memorialist, with his little band, began to 
fell the forest and construct the rude fortification at 
Boonesborough." 

Referred to a committee of the Senate, the memo- 
rial was made the basis of a resolution — which was 
adopted without a division by both branches of the 
Legislature — instructing Kentucky's representatives 
at Washington to use every effort to induce Congress 
" to procure a grant of land in said territory to said 
Boone," since "it is as unjust as it is impolitic that 
useful enterprise and eminent services should go un- 
rewarded." Reenforced by this resolution, Boone's 
appeal to Congress was successful. December 24, 



332 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

1813, the committee on public lands, which had 
taken his petition under consideration, reported to the 
House of Representatives that "as the petitioner was 
induced to omit settlement and cultivation by the sug- 
gestion of the said Delassus that it was unnecessary, 
his claim ought not on that account to be rendered 
invalid," and "it also appears to the committee that 
the petitioner is in his old age, and has in early life 
rendered to his country arduous and useful ser- 
vices; and ought not, therefore, to be deprived of 
this remaining resource by a rigorous execution 
of a provision of our statute, designed to prevent 
frauds on the Government." A few weeks later, by 
congressional enactment, Boone was confirmed in 
the possession of his Spanish grant.^ 

Before this act of justice was done him, he had sus- 
tained the greatest loss of his career, in the death, in 
1813, of his faithful wife Rebecca, who had, no less 
courageously than he, braved the perils of Indian- 
infested Kentucky, had shared with him the horrors 
of the border wars, and had supported and cheered 
him with loving devotion throughout the years of his 

^ The documents relating to Boone's appeal are contained in 
"American State Papers — Public Lands," Vol. II. It appears 
that he first appealed to Congress as early as 1807, or before the 
commissioners had finally decided against him; and that his 
petition was favorably reported in 1 8 10, but was not then followed 
by the necessary legislative action. 



Boone's Last Years 333 

accumulating misfortunes. After her death Boone 
removed to the home of his daughter Jemima, who, 
with her husband, Flanders Callaway, had come to 
Missouri from Kentucky soon after the cession of 
Louisiana to the United States. But, even in extreme 
old age, he was of too roving a disposition to remain 
long in any one place. Much of his time he spent at 
the homes of his sons, Daniel Morgan and Nathan. 
It was while he was on a visit to Nathan, in the 
autumn of 18 16, that he wrote to his sister-in-law, 
Sarah Boone, wife of his brother Samuel, a letter 
now among the most treasured possessions of the 
Wisconsin State Historical Society, and valuable as 
providing the only personal account extant of his 
religious beliefs. 

"Deer Sister,'' the aged pioneer began, "with 
pleasuer I Red a Later from your Sun Samuel Boone 
who informs me that you are yett Liveing and in 
good health Considing your age I wright to you to 
Latt you know I have Not forgot you and to inform 
you of my own Situation Sence the Death of your 
Sister Rabacah I live with flanders Calaway But am 
at present with my Sun Nathan and in tolerabel halth 
you can gass at my feilings by your own as we are So 
Near one age I Need Not write you of our Satuation as 
Samuel Bradley or James grimes Can inform you of 
Every Surcumstance Relating to our family and how 
we Live in this World and what Chance we Shall 



334 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

have in the next we know Not for my part I am as ig- 
nerant as a Child all the Relegan I have to Love and 
feer god believe in Jesus Christ Do all the good to my 
Nighbours and my Self that I can and Do as Little 
harm as I can help and trust on god's mercy for the 
rest and I beleve god never made a man of my prin- 
spel to be Lost and I flater my Self Deer Sister that 
you are well on your way in Cristineaty gave my Love 
to your Childran and all my friends fearwell Deer 
Sister." ^ 

To the last Boone retained his fondness for life in 
the open, and almost to the last continued his hunt- 
ing excursions, making long trips into the Western 
wilderness. As late as 1816, when he was eighty- 
two, he was seen in Nebraska *'in the dress of the 
roughest, poorest hunter.'' He even talked, when 
Missouri began to increase too rapidly in population 
to suit him, of removing still farther west, but his sons 
would not let him depart. They could not induce 
him, however, to forego his hunts, which, during and 
after the War of 18 12, were by no means free from 
danger, owing to the increasing hostility of the trans- 
Mississippi Indians. According to his biographer, 
Dr. Peck, he was at least once attacked by a small 
party of Osages, but, with the aid of a negro servant, 
managed to beat them off. On another occasion he 

* This letter is quoted from Dr. Thwaites's "Daniel Boone," in 
which it is reproduced in facsimile. 



Boone's Last Years 335 

was forced to keep in hiding several days, to avoid 
discovery by a band of hostile reds, hunting in his 
vicinity. 

To Dr. Peck we are indebted for an interesting 
pen-portrait of Boone in these closing years. "It 
was in the month of December, 18 18," he says, 
"that the author of this memoir, while performing 
the duty of an itinerant minister of the gospel in the 
frontier settlements of Missouri, saw for the first time 
this venerable pioneer. The preceding day had been 
spent in the settlement of Femme Osage, where Mr. 
Callaway, with whom Boone lived, met and accom- 
panied the writer to Charette village, a French ham- 
let situated on the north side of the Missouri, adjacent 
to which was his residence. On his introduction to 
Colonel Boone, the impressions were those of surprise, 
admiration, and deHght. In boyhood he had read 
of Daniel Boone, the pioneer of Kentucky, the cele- 
brated hunter and Indian fighter; and imagination 
had portrayed a rough, fierce-looking, uncouth speci- 
men of humanity, and, of course, at this period of 
life, a fretful and unattractive old man. 

"But in every respect the reverse appeared. His 
high, bold forehead was slightly bald, and his silvered 
locks were combed smooth; his countenance was 
ruddy and fair, and exhibited the simplicity of a 
child. His voice was soft and melodious. A smile 
frequently played over his features in conversation. 



336 Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

At repeated interviews an irritable expression was 
never heard. His clothing was the coarse, plain 
manufacture of the family ; but everything about him 
denoted that kind of comfort which was congenial to 
his hajbits and feelings, and evinced a happy old age. 
His room was part of a range of log-cabins, kept in 
order by his affectionate daughter and granddaugh- 
ters. 

"Every member of the household appeared to de- 
light in administering to his comforts. He was so- 
ciable, communicative in replying to questions, but 
not in introducing incidents of his own history. He 
was intelligent, for he had treasured up the experi- 
ence and observations of more than fourscore years. 
In these interviews every incident of his life might have 
been drawn from hisHps; but, veneration being the 
predominant feeHng which his presence excited, no 
more than a few brief notes were taken. 

"He spoke feelingly, and with solemnity, of being 
a creature of Providence, ordained by Heaven as a 
pioneer in the wilderness to advance the civilization 
and the extension of his country. He appeared to 
have entered into the wilderness with no comprehen- 
sive views or extensive plans of future improvement; 
he aimed not to lay the foundations of a state or na- 
tion; but still he professed the belief that the Al- 
mighty had assigned to him a work to perform, and 
that he had only followed the pathway of duty in the 



Boone's Last Years 337 

course he had pursued. He gave no evidence of 
superstition, manifested no religious credulity, told of 
no remarkable dreams and strange impressions, as 
is common with superstitious and illiterate people, 
but only expressed an internal satisfaction that he 
had discharged his duty to God and his country by 
following the direction of Providence." 

Others who visited Boone at this time have con- 
firmed Dr. Peck's highly favorable estimate. The 
Rev. James Welch, another frontier clergyman, says 
that he was "soft and quiet in his manner," with 
"but little to say unless spoken to, sociable and kind 
in his feelings, very fond of quiet retirement, of cool 
self-possession and indomitable perseverance." Tim- 
othy Flint — who, Hke Dr. Peck, was one of Boone's 
early biographers, and knew him in Missouri — 
pictures him as "five feet ten inches in height, of a 
very erect, clean-limbed, and athletic form — ad- 
mirably fitted in structure, muscle, temperament, 
and habit for the endurance of the labors, changes, 
and sufferings he underwent. He had what phrenol- 
ogists would have considered a model head — with 
a forehead pecuHarly high, noble, and bold — thin 
and compressed lips — a mild, clear, blue eye — a 
large and prominent chin, and a general expression of 
countenance in which frankness and courage sat 
enthroned. . . . Never was old age more green, or 
gray hairs more graceful." 
z 



^^S Daniel Boone and the Wilderness Road 

But the most intimate view we possess of Boone in 
his last years is from the pen of the American artist 
Chester Harding, who, prompted by a patriotic im- 
pulse, made a long journey in 1819 for the purpose of 
painting Boone's portrait. At the time of Harding's 
visit Boone was temporarily living alone in an old 
cabin, having apparently left home on one of his 
periodical outings. The artist found him "engaged 
in cooking his dinner. He was lying in his bunk, near 
the fire, and had a long strip of venison wound around 
his ramrod, and was busy turning it before a brisk 
blaze, and using salt and pepper to season his meat. 

"I at once told him the object of my visit. I found 
that he hardly knew what I meant. I explained the 
matter to him, and he agreed to sit. He was [nearly] 
ninety years old, and rather infirm; his memory of 
passing events was much impaired, yet he would 
amuse me every day by his anecdotes of his earlier 
life. I asked him one day, just after his description 
of one of his long hunts, if he never got lost, having 
no compass. *No,' said he, *I can't say as ever I was 
lost, but I was bewildered once for three days.' " 

Harding painted his portrait none too soon. Little 
more than a year later, on September 21, 1820, Boone 
passed away, dying at the home of his son Nathan. 
The end, it is said, came gradually and peaceful!)/, 
without the slightest suffering. When he died, the 
Missouri Legislature was holding its first session at 



Boone's Last Years 339 

St. Louis, and upon hearing the news of his death 
the representatives adjourned for the day, after 
adopting a resolution to wear a badge of mourning 
twenty days out of respect to his memory. 

He was buried, in accordance with his often ex- 
pressed desire, by the side of his well-loved Rebecca, in 
a grave on the bank of a small stream. But, twenty- 
five years afterwards, in response to a request from 
the Kentucky Legislature, the people of Missouri con- 
sented to allow the removal of the remains of both 
Boone and his wife for reinterment in the State so 
immeasurably indebted to their brave pioneering. 
September 18, 1845, ^^ ^^^ presence of an enormous 
assemblage from all parts of Kentucky, and with 
most impressive funeral services, they were laid at 
rest in the public cemetery at Frankfort, their graves 
being marked in after years by a beautiful monument. 

No monument is needed, though, to keep Boone's 
memory green in the hearts of his fellow-countrymen. 
His name will always live in the record of his bold ad- 
venturings, his historic explorations, his epoch- 
making road-building in the trans-Alleghany wilds, 
to which he above all other men led the advance of 
civilization. 



INDEX 



Adams, John, 137-139. 

Adams, Samuel, 137-139. 

Aix-la-Chapelle, Treaty of, 22. 

Alamance, Battle of, 77 n, 84. 

Alden, G. H., cited, 91 n. 

Allen, J. L., quoted, 37, 292. 

American Revolution, Kentucky in, 
152-172, 198-246 ; George Rogers 
Clark's campaign, 173-197 ; Ten- 
nessee in, 247-263 ; also mentioned, 
116 n, 134, 160, 161, 281, 282, 293, 

314- 
Ashe, G. A., cited, 25 n. 
Asher's Station, Tenn., 267. 
Audubon, John J., quoted, 323. 
Audubon, Maria R., cited, 323 n. 

Bassett, J. S., cited, 50-51 n. 

Benton, Jesse, 142. 

Benton, Thomas Hart, 142. 

Black Bird, 211, 214. 

Black Fish, captures Boone, 201 ; 
adopts Boone, 204 ; attacks Boones- 
borough, 209-220 ; killed, 239. 

Black Hoof, 211, 214. 

Blue Lick, Battle of, 231, 243-244, 231, 
302, 306, 310, 318. 

Boiling Spring, Ky., founded, 118; 
sends delegates to Boonesborough, 
121 ; rebels against Transylvania 
Company, 144-145 ; also men- 
tioned, 119, 131. 

Boone, Daniel, ancestry, 1-5 ; birth, 6 ; 
boyhood, 7-12 ; removes to North 
Carohna, 13 ; appearance in youth, 
15 ; in Braddock's campaign, 25-35 ; 
meets John Finley, 29 ; marries 
Rebecca Bryan, 38 ; in Cherokee 
War, 41-45 ; first Western journey, 
46-48 ; visited by John Finley, 49 ; 
starts for Kentucky, 52 ; explora- 
tions in Kentucky, 54-66 ; fijst 



Indian captivity, 56-58 ; decides to 
remove to Kentucky, 62 ; selects 
site of home, 84 ; first attempt to 
settle in Kentucky, 85-90 ; in Lord 
Dunmore's War, 93-96 ; employed 
to build Wilderness Road, 100 ; 
adventures while building it, 102- 

111 ; letter to Richard Henderson, 
108-109 and n ; builds Fort Boone, 

112 ; member Transylvania House 
of Delegates, 121, 125-126; brings 
family to Kentucky, 133 ; given 
land by Transylvania Company, 135 ; 
attitude to Henderson, 152 ; rescues 
daughter from Indians, 155-157 ; 
life saved by Kenton, 1 70-1 71 ; 
characteristics as miUtary com- 
mander, 172 ; second Indian cap- 
tivity, 199-206 ; escapes, 206-208 ; 
plans defence Boonesborough, 209 ; 
leads raid against Indians, 210 ; in 
siege of Boonesborough, 2x1-220 ; 
court-martialed, 221-222 ; feat of 
marksmanship, 229-230 ; aids Bry- 
an's Station, 241 ; in battle of Blue 
Lick, 243-244 ; letter to Isaac Shelby, 
299 ; dechne in influence, 300-301 ; 
removes from Boonesborough, 318 ; 
loses Kentucky lands, 318-319, 324 ; 
settles at Maysville, 319 ; removes 
to Point Pleasant, 320 ; elected to 
Virginia Legislature, 320 ; letter to 
governor of Virginia, 321 ; descrip- 
tions of, 322-323, 335-338 ; migrates 
to Missouri, 324-325 ; as Spanish 
official, 326-327 ; struggle to retain 
Spanish land grant, 329-332 ; last 
visit to Kentucky, 330 ; letter to 
Sarah Boone, 333-334 and n ; last 
hunting trips, 334-335 ; death, 338 ; 
burial in Kentucky, 339 ; also men- 
tioned, 24, 37, 50, 51, 52 n, 65 n, 74, 



343 



344 



Ind 



ex 



91, 98 and n, 99, 157 n, 158, 162, 166, 
245, 266, 267, 273. 

Boone, Daniel Morgan, 87, 324, 333. 

Boone, Edward, 241. 

Boone, George, 3, 4. 

Boone, Israel, 38, 86, 241, 244. 

Boone, James, 38, 47, 86, 87, 88. 

Boone, Jemima, 87, i53-i57. 208, 333. 

Boone, John, 87. 

Boone, Lavinia, 87. 

Boone, Nathan, 320, 333. 

Boone, Rebecca, daughter of Daniel, 87. 

Boone, Rebecca, wife of Daniel, an- 
cestry and marriage, 38 ; goes to 
Virginia, 40 ; dissuades Daniel from 
Florida enterprise, 47 ; starts for 
Kentucky, 85 ; joins Daniel at 
Boonesborough, 133 ; returns to 
North Carolina, 208 ; again in Ken- 
tucky, 229 ; death, 332 ; burial in 
Kentucky, 339. 

Boone, Samuel, 333. 

Boone, Sarah, mother of Daniel, 2, 4. 

Boone, Sarah, sister of Daniel, 3, 4, 5. 

Boone, Sarah, sister-in-law of Daniel, 

333- 

Boone, Squire, brother of Daniel, in 
early Western exploration, 48 ; 
volunteers to explore Kentucky, 59 ; 
with Daniel in Kentucky, 60-62, 65 ; 
attacked by Indians, 66 ; aids 
Daniel in building Wilderness Road, 
102 ; member Transylvania House 
of Delegates, 121 ; welcomes Daniel 
from captivity, 208. 
oone, Squire, father of Daniel, mi- 
grates to America, 2-3 ; settles in 
Pennsylvania, 4-6 ; removes to 
North Carolina, 12-14 J officiates 
at Daniel's wedding, 38 ; tempo- 
rarily removes to Maryland, 40 ; 
death, 48. 

Boone, Susannah, 86. 

Boone's Station, Ky., 318. 

Boonesborough, Ky., founding and 
description, 11 7-1 18 ; Transylvania 
House of Delegates meets at, 121- 
131 ; first Indian outrage, 145 ; 
second Indian outrage, 153-157 ; 



first two Indian sieges, 166 ; Shaw- 
nees plan another attack, 206 ; 
Boone's plan to defend, 209 ; third 
Indian siege, 211-220 ; incorporated 
as a town, 223 ; sends aid to Bryan's 
Station, 241 ; decUne of, 302 ; pres- 
ent aspect, 303-304 ; also men- 
tioned, 133, 13s, 160, 163, 165, 168, 
199, 200, 201, 202, 207, 221, 222, 265, 
308, 318, 331. 

Bowman, Joseph, 185, 223. 

Bowman's Station, Ky., 222. 

Bradford, John, 307, 308. 

Brown, A. M., 294. 

Brown, WilUam, describes journey 
over Wilderness Road, 294-297, 

Bryan, William, 231, 232. 

Bryan's Station, Ky., location and ^ 
early history, 222, 231 ; besieged, 235- 
241 ; also mentioned, 242, 245, 310. 

Bullock, Leonard, 98. 

Bush, William, 102. 

Butterfield, C. W., cited, 184 n, 201 n. 

Byrd, Colonel, 223, 232. 

Cahokia, 111., Clark plans to capture, 
175-176 ; captured, 185 ; inhabit- 
ants aid Clark, 189 ; also men- 
tioned, 325. 

Caldwell, William, plans expedition 
against Wheeling, 234 ; attacks 
Bryan's Station, 235-241. 

Callaway, Elizabeth, 153-157 and n. 

Callaway, Fanny, 153-157 and n. 

Callaway, Flanders, in expedition to 
rescue Boonesborough girls, 155- 
157 ; marries Jemima Boone, 157 n; 
negotiates with Indians, 214-215 ; 
removes to Missouri, 333 ; also 
mentioned, 209, 335. 

Callaway, Richard, helps Boone build 
Wilderness Road, 102 ; member 
Transylvania House of Delegates, 
121 ; brings family to Kentucky, 133 ; 
rescues daughters from Indians, 155- 
157 ; negotiates with Indians, 212- 
215 ; has Boone court-martialed, 
221-222 ; also mentioned, 153, 159, 
208. 



Index 



345 



Campbell, William, 258-262. 

Cherokee Treaty, 44-45. 

Cherokee War of 1759-1761, 39-45, 50 ; 
of 1776-1780, 65 n, 249-256. 

ChiUicothe, Indian town, 202, 204, 205, 
206, 210, 223. 

Christian, WilUam, 253-254. 

Cincinnati, Ohio, 245, 282, 324. 

Clark, George Rogers, migrates to Ken- 
tucky, 141 ; elected to Virginia 
Convention, 150 ; secures aid for 
Kentuckians, 161 ; brings ammuni- 
tion to Kentucky, 162 ; at McClel- 
land's Station, 163-165 ; plans con- 
quest of Northwest, 173-175 ; raises 
money and men, 177-179 ; takes 
troops down the Ohio, 179 ; marches 
and captures Kaskaskia, 180-183 ; 
secures surrender Cahokia and Vin- 
cennes, 185 ; pacifies Illinois Indians, 
185-186 ; learns of recapture Vin- 
cennes, 189 ; leads troops against it, 
190-193 ; takes it, 194-197 ; signifi- 
cance of campaign, 198, 222 ; de- 
stroys Indian town of Pickaway, 
223-224 ; again invades Indian coun- 
try, 245 ; visited by Robertson, 286 ; 
also mentioned, 233, 263, 273, 282, 
301, 325- 

Cleveland, Benjamin, 260-261. 

Cocke, William, goes to Kentucky, 113 ; 
heroic act of, 114, 116; member 
Transylvania House of Delegates, 
121 ; leaves Kentucky, 133 ; in 
Tennessee, 250. 

Collins, Lewis, quoted, 108-109 and 
n, 283-289 ; cited, 93. 

Cornstalk, 95. 

CornwaUis, Lord, 257, 262. 

Cox, Benjamin, 312. 

Crab Orchard, Ky., 290, 291, 305. 

Cumberland Compact, 274-279. 

Dandridge, A. S., 121. 

Danville, Ky., 305 and n, 308, 310, 311. 

Davis, Azariah, 121. 

Deane, Silas, 137. 

Delassus, Charles D., 326. 

De Quindre, Canadian partisan of 



British, attacks Boonesborough, 211- 

220. 
Dinwiddle, Robert, 17. 
Doak, Samuel, 259. 
Doddridge, Joseph, quoted, 71-73. 
Donelson, John, voyage to Nashville, 

267-273. 
Donelson, Rachel, 267. 
Doniphan, Joseph, 308. 
Douglas, James, 121, 126. 
Dragging Canoe, 250, 251, 254. 
Dunlap's American Daily Advertiser, 

quoted, 291-292. 
Dutch Station, Ky., 223. 

Eaton's Station, Tenn., 267, 275. 
Estill's Station, Ky., 222. 

Fallen Timber, Battle of, 282. 

Farrar, John, 113, 131. 

Ferguson, Patrick, in South, 257 ; 
threatens Wataugans, 258 ; in 
flight, 259 ; attacked and killed at 
King's Mountain, 260-262. 

Filson Club, origin of name, 53 n ; 
pubUcations cited, 114 n, 297 n, 305 
n, 311 n. 

Filson, John, 53 and n, 54, 55, 63, 308, 
318. 

Finley, John, meets Boone, 29 ; early 
adventures in Kentucky, 29-30 ; 
visits Boone, 49 ; with Boone in 
Kentucky, 54-60 ; later Ufe, 65 n ; 
also mentioned, 47, 48, 51, 52 n, 64, 
65, 328. 

Flint, Timothy, quoted, 337. 

Floyd, John, settles in Kentucky, 118 ; 
member Transylvania House of Dele- 
gates, 121 ; rescues girls from Ind- 
ians, 155-157 ; later career, 159 and 
n. 

Force, Peter, cited, 140 n 

Fort Boone, 112, 116. 

Fort Dobbs, 37, 40. 

Fort Eaton, 250, 251, 253. 

Fort Loudon, 37, 42, 43, 45. 

Fort Prince George, 37, 40, 41, 42, 43. 

Fort Stanwix, Treaty of, 90, 105, 144, 
147. 



34^ 



Index 



Fort Union, 267. 

Fort Watauga, 251, 252, 253. 

Frankfort, Ky., 305. 

Freeland's Station, Tenn., 267. 

French and Indian War, 7, 22-24, 39, 45- 

Gasper's Station, Tenn., 267, 275. 

Gass, David, 102, 

Georgetown, Ky., 305. 

Gibault, Pierre, 185. 

Girty, George, 201 and n, 202. 

Girty, James, 201 and n, 202. 

Girty, Simon, characteristics, 201 and 

n ; at Bryan's Station, 234-241 ; 

also mentioned, 245. 
Grant's Station, Ky., 223. 
Greenville, Treaty of, 283. 

Hall, James, cited, 89 n. 

Hamilton, Henry, secures Indian alli- 
ance for British, 165 ; plans re- 
conquest Northwest, 187 ; occupies 
Vincennes, 188 ; attacked by Clark, 
194-195 ; surrenders, 197 ; sent in 
irons to Virginia, 198 ; and Daniel 
Boone, 203, 221 ; sends letter to 
Boonesborough, 212-213 '■> a-lso men- 
tioned, 181, 209. 

Hammond, Nathan, 121. 

Hancock, Stephen, 209, 210. 

Hanks, Abraham, 113. 

Harding, Chester, quoted, 338. 

Harlan, Silas, 241, 244. 

Harlan's Station, Ky., 223. 

Harman, Valentine, 121. 

Harmar, Josiah, 316 w. 

Harrod, James, founds Harrodstown, 
93 and n ; characteristics, 94 n ; 
founds Boiling Spring, 118 ; member 
Transylvania House of Delegates, 
121 ; leads rebellion against Tran- 
sylvania Company, 144 ; also men- 
tioned, 116, 149, 159, 176. 

Harrodstown, Ky., founded, 93 and n ; 
sends delegates to Boonesborough, 
121 ; rebels against Transylvania 
Company, 144-145 ; besieged by 
Indians, 166 ; sends aid to Bryan's 
Station, 241 ; also mentioned, 115, 



118, 119, 131, 160, 164, 165, 168, 173, 
176. 

Hart, David, 98, 135. 

Hart, Nathaniel, 98, 113, 122, 127, 135. 

Hart, Thomas, 98. 

Hart's Station, Ky., 223. 

Helm, Leonard, 185, 188, 196. 

Henderson, Archibald, cited, 98 n. 

Henderson, Nathaniel, 112. 

Henderson, Richard, early career, 96 ; 
plans Western colony, 97 ; organ- 
izes Transylvania Company, 98 ; 
buys Kentucky from Cherokees, 99 ; 
employs Boone to build Wilderness 
Road, 100 ; starts for Kentucky, 
112 ; adventures on the road, 113- 
116 ; locates capital of Transyl- 
vania, 116; negotiates with early 
Kentucky settlers, 118; plans gov- 
ernment for Transylvania, 119-120 ; 
address to Transylvania House of 
Delegates, 122-125 ; and Transyl- 
vania's constitution, 126-127 ; for- 
mally takes possession Transylvania, 
131 ; returns to North Carolina, 
134 ; denounced by insurgent Tran- 
sylvanians, 146-149 ; struggle to 
hold Transylvania, 149-150 ; loses 
contest, but voted land, 151 ; pro- 
motes settlement Middle Tennes- 
see, 265 ; at Nash\Tlle, 274 ; and 
Cumberland Compact, 274-277 ; 
also mentioned, 133, 135, 136, 144, 
159 n, 319. 

Henderson, Samuel, goes to Kentucky, 
112 ; member Transylvania House 
of Delegates, 121 ; in expedition to 
rescue Boonesborough girls, 155- 
157 ; marries Elizabeth Callaway, 
157 n. 

Henry, Patrick, 177-178, 211. 

Hinkson's Station, Ky., 158, 163. 

Hite, Isaac, 121, 126, 170. 

Hogg, James, appointed Transylvania 
delegate to Congress, 135 ; goes to 
Philadelphia, 137 ; confers with 
Congressmen, 137-141 ; acknowl- 
edges failure and leaves Philadel- 
phia, 141 ; also mentioned, 98. 



Index 



347 



Holder, John, in expedition to rescue 
Boonesborough girls, 155-157 ; mar- 
ries Fanny Callaway, 157 n; in 
raid against Indians, 210 ; also 
mentioned, 209. 

Holder's Station, Ky., 233. 

Hoy's Station, Ky., 223, 233, 235. 

Hulbert, A. B., quoted, 298-299. 

Huston's Station, Ky., 158. 

Indian adoption, ceremony of, 204. 
Irvine's Station, Ky., 223. 

Jefferson, Thomas, 139, 140, 177. 

Johnson, Jemima Sugget, 237. 

Johnson, Richard M., 237, 

Johnson, Robert, 237. 

Johnston, William, 98. 

Jones, John Gabriel, 150, 161, 162, 164. 

Kaskaskia, 111., location, 180 ; captured 
by Clark, 1 81-183 ; Robertson at, 
266 ; also mentioned, 140, 173, 175, 
176, 189, 191, 325. 

Kennedy, John, 209, 

Kenton, Simon, characteristics and 
early career, 162-163 ; accompanies 
Clark to Harrodstown, 164 ; brings 
reUef to McClelland's, 165 ; saves 
Boone's life, 1 70-1 71 ; in George 
Rogers Clark's campaign, 179 ; re- 
tiims to Kentucky, 209 ; in raid 
against Indians, 210 ; settles near 
Washington, Ky., 321 ; also men- 
tioned, 166, 169, 176. 

Kentucky, early explorations, 29-30, 
52 n ; Boone's explorations, 54-66 ; 
first settlement, 93 and n ; history 
as Transylvania, 11 7-1 49 ; first 
constitution, 126-130 ; organized as 
a Virginia county, 150 ; Indian wars 
in, 152-172, 198-246 ; rapid growth 
in population, 281, 302 ; Frankfort 
and other cities founded, 305 ; 
change in social conditions after 
Revolution, 307-317 ; aids Boone 
in retaining Spanish land grant, 331 ; 
erects monument to Boone, 339. 

Kentucky Academy, 310 n. 



Kentucky Gazette, The, founding of, 

290, 307 ; quoted, 290, 309, 310, 

312, 313. 
Kentucky Herald, The, quoted, 315- 

317- 
Kentucky University, 311 «. 
King George's War, 22. 
King, W. W., cited, 65 n. 
King William's War, 22. 
King's Mountain, Battle of, 260-263. 
King's Proclamation, 90 and n, 138- 

139, 144- 

Lee, Richard Henry, 141. 

Lewis, Andrew, 163. 

Lexington, Battle of, 116 «, 132. 

Lexington, Ky., founded, 223 ; sends 
aid to Bryan's Station, 241 ; rapid 
growth, 306 ; first store, 306 ; first 
inn, 307 ; first newspaper, 307 ; first 
schools, 308 ; first Hbrary, 311 ; first 
jockey club, 312 ; first theatre, 312 ; 
also mentioned, 224, 228. 

Logan, Benjamin, gives name to branch 
of Wilderness Road, 104 « ; goes to 
Kentucky with Richard Henderson, 
113 ; quarrels with and leaves Hen- 
derson, 114; heroism of, 167-169; 
defeated by Indians, 223 ; raises 
troops to aid Bryan's Station, 242, 
245. 

Logan's Fort, Ky., founded, 120 ; 
sends delegates to Boonesborough, 
121 ; besieged, 167-169 ; Boone on 
trial at, 221-222 ; sends aid to Bry- 
an's Station, 242, 245. 

Lord Dunmore's War, 65 n, 91-95, 105, 
153, 163- 

Louisiana Purchase, 328-329. 

Louisville, Ky., 305, 311, 314. 

Luttrell, John, 98, 112, 122, 127, 134. 

Lythe, John, 121, 122, 126, 131. 

McAfee brothers, 115, 158. 
McBride, WilUam, 242, 244. 
McClelland's Station, Ky., 158, 160, 

162, 163. 
McClung, J. A., quoted, 224-229, 230- 

231. 



348 



Index 



McConnel, Alexander, 224-22g. 
McGary, Hugh, goes to Kentucky, 142 ; 

aids Bryan's Station, 241 ; rashness 

at Blue Lick, 243-244. 
McKelway, A. J., quoted, 82. 
McKinney, John, 308. 
Marietta, Ohio, 282. 
Martin's Station, Ky., 223, 232. 
Mason, George, 177, 183, 184 n, 186. 
Maysville, Ky., 163, 283, 305, 3i9, 320. 
Merril, Mrs. John, 230-231. 
Michaux, F. A., quoted, 281. 
Moluntha, 211, 212, 214, 239. 
Moore, William, 121. 

Napoleon, 328-329. 

Nash, Francis, 267 and n. 

Nashville, Tenn., founded, 266-267 ; 

Donelson's journey to, 267-272 ; 

Cumberland Compact signed at, 274, 

279. 

Oconostota, 253. 

Ogg, F. A., cited, 307 n. 

Paris, Ky., 305. 

Patterson, Robert, 142. 

Peck, J. M., quoted, 210, 335-337 ; 

cited, 334. 
Penn, William, 2, 11, 97. 
Peter, Robert, cited, 311 »• 
Philip, King, 211. 
Pickaway, Indian town, 224. 
Point Pleasant, Battle of, 95, 163. 
Pontiac, S2), 90, 91, 211. 
Preston, William, 156, 157, 159, 232. 
Putnam, A. W., cited, 268 n, 279 n. 

Queen Anne's War, 22. 

Ramsey, J. G. M., cited, 78. 

Ranck, G. W., quoted, 131, 218, 303- 

304 ; cited, 114 n, 122, 140 n. 
Rawdon, Francis, 257. 
Regulation Movement and War in 

North Carolina, 50-51, 76, 77 n, 84, 

96, 97, 130. 
Rights of Man, or Kentucky Mercury, 

The, quoted, 311. 



Robertson, James, settles in Watauga 
77-78 ; in Lord Duimiore's War, 95 I 
characteristics, 249 ; in Cherokee 
War, 250-256 ; founds Nashville, 
264-267 ; and Cumberland Com- 
pact, 274-275 ; also mentioned, 247, 
273. 279, 280. 

Rocheblave, Philippe de, 181, 183, 185. 

Rogers, Joseph, 232. 

Roosevelt, Theodore, cited, 61, 307 n. 

Ruddle's Station, Ky., 222, 223, 232. 

St. Clair, Arthur, 316, 321. 

Scotch-Irish, origin, 68-69 ; first 
American settlements, 69-70 ; char- 
acterij-tics, 71-83, 308. 

Seventy Years' War, 21, 25. 

Sevier, John, settles in Watauga, 77-79 ; 
in Lord Dunmore's War, 95 ; char- 
acteristics, 249 ; in Cherokee War, 
250-256 ; later career, 256 ; in 
King's Mountain campaign, 258- 
262 ; also mentioned, 247, 273. 

Shelby, Evan, 65 n, 249. 

Shelby, Isaac, characteristics, 249 ; 
in King's Mountain campaign, 258- 
262 ; letter from Boone, 299 ; also 
mentioned, 252 n, 302. 

Slaughter, Thomas, 121, 122. 

Smith, W. B., 212. 

Speed, Thomas, cited, 297. 

Stone's River Station, Tenn., 267. 

Stoner, Michael, warns Kentucky 
settlers of Indian uprising, 93-94 ; 
aids in building Wilderness Road, 
102 ; meets Richard Henderson, 116 ; 
explores Kentucky, 158 ; wounded by 
Indians, 170 

Sycamore Shoals Treaty, 99, loi, 123, 
250. 

Tarleton, Banastre, 257. 

Tecumseh, 211. 

Tennessee, early explorations in, 46-47 ; 
first settled, 76-80 ; in American 
Revolution, 247-263 ; settlement of 
Middle, 264-280. 

Thwaites, R. G., quoted, 4, 12 », 319; 



Index 



349 



cited, 59 n, 65 n, 95, 181 n, 184 n, 
323 n, 334 n. 

Timberlake, Oba S., 311. 

Todd, John, member Transylvania 
House of Delegates, 121, 126; 
wounded by Indians, 1 70 : aids 
Bryan's Station, 241 ; killed, 244. 

Todd, Levi, 241. 

Transylvania, founding of, 11 2-1 3 2 ; 
constitution, 126-130 ; later his- 
tory, I3S-I4Q- 

Transylvania Company, organized, 
98 ; buys Kentucky from Chero- 
kees, 99 ; settles Kentucky, loi- 
132 ; votes land to Boone, 135, 318 ; 
struggles for recognition by Con- 
gress, 135-141 ; transfers contest to 
Williamsburg, 141 ; downfall of, 
15^^151- _ 

Transylvania Seminary, 308, 309-310. 

Treaty of 1763, 45. 

Trigg, Stephen, 241, 244. 

Vincennes, Ind., captured, 185 ; re- 
taken by British, 188 ; besieged and 
taken by Clark, 194-197 ; also men- 
tioned, 141, 173, 175, 176, 189, 325. 

Virginia Gazette, The, quoted, 290-291. 

Walker, Felix, describes plans for 
Wilderness Road, 102 ; describes 
Kentucky, 104 ; wounded, 106 ; 
tribute to Boone, 107 n; also men- 
tioned, 109, 114 n, 116, 266. 

War of 1 81 2, 334. 



Warriors' Path, 55, 59, 61, 66. 

Washington, George, and French in 
Ohio Valley, 17, 23, 62 ; in Brad- 
dock's campaign, 28, 31, 34 ; defends 
border, 36 ; and American Revolu- 
tion, 257. 

Washington, Ky., 305, 314. 

Watauga Articles of Association, 76, 
78-80, 126. 

Watauga country, The, location, 76 ; 
first settlement, 76-80 ; annexed by 
North Carolina, 80, 248 ; Indian 
wars in, 249-256. 

Wayne, Anthony, 282, 289, 316 n. 

Welch, James, quoted, 337. 

White Oak Spring Station, Ky., 222. 

Whitley, William, 142. 

Wilderness Road, building of, loi-iii ; 
route, 103 ; Logan's Branch, 104 n, 
158, 305 ; Richard Henderson's 
journey over, 11 2-1 16; immigra- 
tion begins by way of, 141-142 ; 
Indians practically close, 166, i6g, 
199 ; factor in settlement of Middle 
Tennessee, 247, 265, 267 ; and 
battle of King's Mountain, 263 ; 
travel over, 283, 289-298 ; de- 
scription, 292 ; opened to wagons, 
292, 299 ; also mentioned, 99, 144, 
177, 179, 208, 233, 246, 264, 318. 

Wilkinson, James, 306. 

Williams, John, 98, 135, 141. 

Wilson, Isaac, 308. 

Wood, Samuel, 121. 

Wythe, George, 139-141, 178. 



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